


The Wars Yet to Come

by AryaWinter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Inspired by A Song of Ice and Fire, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-01-13 15:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaWinter/pseuds/AryaWinter
Summary: Yet another time travel fix-it but with a twist. Thanks to @The_Sithspawn (The Raven's Plan) for the inspiration and @Priestess_of_Groove (The Dragon's Roar) as well. I wanted to go with something a bit different than starting at the beginning and wanted to aim for angst with some tension. This starts roughly, very roughly, after Season 2 (Clash of Kings) and start of Season 3 (A Storm of Swords), I've taken some liberties with timing mostly because, well why not. This is also a mix of book and show, trying to bring in some more of the greyness of the Book characters with the plot points we all know. I've been holding on to the start of this for after the premier.





	1. Prologue

Breathing heavy, Jon, battered and bruised kept trudging forward. At his side was the weathered old lion, Jaime, and Ghost, somehow, against all odds, still alive, making him feel more and more like the Last Hero with each breath. Their armies had faded quickly, leaving but a few thousand, Sam among them, bitter and angry with Jon for leaving Gilly and the babe behind. Edd had remained though, injured and barely clinging to life. Others had gone one by one, Brienne, Jorah, Davos, Greyworm. Thousands more had fallen and come back again before they could be burned. The Dragons had fallen, Dany and the son she carried lost too. At least Viserion had found peace in the end. Sansa had fled south and Jon prayed to whatever god would listen that she was still alive, but he had little faith. Euron still sailed the seas with his silent sailors. 

 

Bran remained by the Weirwood tree, along with Melisandre and members of the Fiery Hand. This was their final chance, the final effort. Everything had to be given here. Jon and Jaime were the vanguard, the Night King no longer rode on a dragon. They had a chance, a small one. Which is all they needed. The other Walkers had faded into nothingness one by one and they knew the Night king wanted Jon and Jaime as his henchman, to replace the ones he had lost. He had tried to steal Arya as she clutched Gendry’s lifeless body, but alas, that was Rhaegal’s parting gift to his rider. He burned them before the Night King could use them. 

______

The Three Eyed Raven sat flitting through time, stitching and weaving it together to find the places where everyone needed to be and when. Melisandre helped him holding the loom of sorts,  the tree working with fire through time. They were there just as they were, here now. He could make them remember, he could set things right. Slowly time froze as the world froze around them. Fluttering of wings, a roar in the distance, time was set to ticking again and again. 

____

Jon finally found his mark stabbing the Night’s King with Longclaw as the King Stabbed him in the gut. Bodies strewn about him reminding him of the failures throughout the years, now with the Lion and Ghost added. Alas, none of them came back and as he realized this, the sun rose weakly for the first time in years in Westeros as the Dragon closed his eyes again. 


	2. Jon I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a rough go of it.

With a start Jon jumped. It was cold, but it had been cold for years, so he couldn’t tell when he was. He knew he was alive and that was enough to know the plan had worked. “Thank the gods,” he whispered as silent tears slipped down his face. Dany was alive she would live, they would win this time they knew how to. Daeron would live. Daeron would breathe and live to see a spring. He groaned though, coming back from the dead never got easier and one day he would like to just stay there,

 

“Oh Jon Snow ya don’t have to thank the Gods, it’s just me.” Years of pain came rushing back to Jon in that moment. A voice he hadn’t thought to hear again bringing him out of his joy, out of his happiness, a voice that his body immediately recalled, betraying Dany’s memory. His heart broke again. 

 

Ygritte lay next to him. He was still in blacks, but Qhorin was nowhere to be found so this was before he met Mance. Before the cave, before the battle at Castle Black. 

 

“Aye but all the same.”

 

Ygritte laughed, “Come on Crow. Mance is going to enjoy hearing how you killed the Half Hand.”

 

_Seven Hells,_ swore Jon silently, _I am in the Frostfangs_. With time placed he knew now when and where he was. Of course the bloody witch and Bran would drop him here, now. It made sense, it was the perfect time for him, but so much of him had hoped to see Ned Stark once more, to have that conversation he so wanted. 

 

_ Well, you plan and the gods laugh. _

 

He spent the rest of the time as they marched thinking and planning.  _ How did I win them over last time? Not well.  _ He had to get them south, he had to convince them that they would be accepted and not killed. Gods knew that would be impossible. He mentally prepared himself and prayed that anyone remembered. Mance’s camp was in sight, the first test would come now. He knew who would be waiting for him in that tent, he knew what he would have to say but he hoped against hope that someone remembered.

 

Shoved roughly into Mance’s test, he fell at Tormund’s feet. Jon looked into Tormund’s eyes and hoped to see some register of their past friendship. At first, nothing but ice but then a glimmer of something. “Tormund, please tell me you remember,” Jon pleaded quietly. With the most silent of prayers answered, Tormund’s eyes grew wide.

 

“King Crow, what has happened- what, Ygritte untie him. Don’t you remember? DON’T ANY OF YOU REMEMBER?” Mance who has been hiding like the last time, came forward as Tormund pushed off Ygritte and began untying Jon. Jon put a hand on Tormund to steady him.

 

“Tormund, what is the meaning of this?”

 

“This is the King of the Crows, we have to get him back to the Wall. We need him there to let us through. Come on, Jon get up. Yer not a kneeler.”

 

“Tormund, the crows don’t have kings, they swear no oaths...”

 

“Aye and we swear to hold no titles no lands yes yes. You would know the oath, Mance.” Jon gave Mance a hard stare, remembering why so many had willingly followed him. Mance started, of course he hadn’t actually revealed himself and Jon shouldn’t know him. Jon cursed under his breath. Mance was a good man, a wise commander, but a man who was desperate nonetheless. “Mance, I need you to listen to what I have to say and suspend belief for a minute.”

 

“Mance, he is not lying, Jon Snow is a good man he helped us-”

“Snow? Stark’s bastard?”

 

Jon took the deepest of breaths. Tormund eyed him for a second to see what he should say or do next. Jon gave him the smallest of nods.

 

“Mance, King Crow here is no bastard, we call him Snow but his father is.. His name is...what are you again lad, Ajon? Your father was Ragger? ” Tormund fumbled. Jon knew he had to step in here before all was lost.

 

“Mance, I am Aegon, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. Eddard Stark hid me at Winterfell because he knew King Robert would have my head smashed in. There’s no time for this, the Army of the Dead march south. I have friends waiting for us at the Wall, they will let us through. You do not need to light the greatest fire the North has ever seen and gods help me, we cannot lose any more Freefolk. Please.”

 

The Freefolk all looked at him with a mixture of amusement and mirth. Most had the heard the tales of Rhaegar and Lyanna. Ygritte laughed out loud, “Ya sure had me fooled Crow. All pretty and pouty one day, a fair green maiden and now yer here to save us? Do ya think Mance is a fool?” Mance to his credit, remained unmoved but clearly shaken as some his words were used against him.

 

“Ygritte, please! King Crow here speaks the Truth I swear it on my girls, he is who he says he is.” Tormund begged in such a way that the laughter stopped. Giantsbane had never shown weakness, he was no kneeler. Mance took in the sight of Jon.

 

Jon knew he had an in, “Mance, you snuck in to Winterfell. Inspired by the tale of Bael the Bard, you snuck in to see King Robert. You had your chance but you didn’t take it. I asked once if you were a king and you told me you  never had a crown on your head or sat your arse on a bloody throne. You said you were your own champion, your own fool, and your own harpist. I need you now, not to follow me. Not to bend the knee, I need you to run for your lives for safety beyond the wall and I promise that by the time we get there, we ALL will be safer for it. I am no King here or anywhere, I just want to get you all south as fast as we can with as few lives lost as possible. You all know what’s coming for us now does not care what side of the wall we were bonr on. We are just more men for his army” Jon paused here and looked into every eye, he saw so many faces, faces he had killed or seen killed or reawakened in the worst way. He looked directly into Ygritte’s eyes then Styr, he saw Rattleshirt and so many others. Each one no longer laughed, and whether they all thought he was crazy or not he knew they had at least heard him.

 

“Give us the tent, Tormund stay.” Mance commanded quietly. Everyone rushed out except for Styr who lingered. Mance urged him to go. “So tell me Jon, or is it Aegon, why should I trust you?”

 

“You could call me Florian, I do not care, so long as we move south now. My life is as much at stake as yours, and if I show up with a hoard of Freefolk behind my back, I am just as good as dead.”

 

“They killed him before for it.” Tormund added quietly. He told Mance all of the story, from the moment they lit the fires at Castle Black, to the moment they all died fighting the long night. Jon had to relive moments he never wanted to hear again. Ygritte stood outside but he still remembered her dying in his arms.  

 

After some time, Mance looked into Jon’s eyes. “I am trusting you boy. Tormund is not a good liar, gods we all know Sheila isn’t a bear.” Tormund went to interject  but Mance stopped him, arms out spread. “Boy, no Targaryen has ever come this far north.”

 

“No that’s not true. Brynden Rivers is here, somewhere, but he has his own role to play.” mused Jon as somewhere, a bird seemed to crow.

 

___________________

 

The days passed by slowly as they marched to the wall. Tormund happily filling in everyone on what had passed in, well, the future. Jon was just happy to be heading back but worried it mjight be too late. Where was everyone right now? Ghost had appeared again, not so long after the march began. His wolf dreams were stronger now, occacionally he found himself somewhere warm every now and again, flying. Every time he tried to focus he was kicked out again. Knowing he would not be able to slide into Rhaegal at will until they had truly bonded again. 

 

Ygritte would find him every night and try to bed him again and again, after hearing that they had been together in the past. Every night Jon would deny her even though his body begged him to remember that cave. He knew he had to get to Dany, had to be reunited with her. Right now she was somewhere in Essos with baby dragons. She had lost Rhaego and Drogo and was likely in Astapor or Qarth. He hoped that Missandei was with her already. He knew he need not worry, she’d survived before and she would survive again. With every memory in his mind, he turned Ygritte away.

 

Even so, Ygritte tried and tried. One night though, Tormund finally intervened, “Oy, Ygritte. Ya don’t want him. He’s been stolen already like the pretty lass he is! The woman who stole him, she has dragons. 3 of them! She’s so scary, she’ll burn ya alive for touching her pretty Crow.”

 

“I’m not scared of no southern lady with her baby dragons.” Ygritte scoffed. “Ain’t no dragons here now no? What can a dragon do?” Tormund was about to interject when a screech descended from the heavens. A smaller Rhaegal swooped down to Jon, with Ghost yipping at his one time companion. 

 

“Seven hells, Rhaegal, why are you here?” A part of him hoped that Rhaegal had a scroll on him but as Dany always said, a dragon was no slave.  _ And apparently not a crow either.  _  He reached out with his mind as Rhaegal swooped to land on his shoulder. “Oof you’re far too big for this.” Flashes for Rhaegal’s thoughts came through, a sense of brothers and mother. All were fine somewhere warm and that was all he could get.

 

Needless to say, after that day, Ygritte kept her distance. 

______________________

 

Within a few more days, they had approached Castle Black. Jon asked Tormund and Mance to stay in the Haunted Forest, he had to see what would happen. “Is this when you betray us, Crow?” snarled a Thenn. Jon couldn’t remember if he had killed this one, he just knew he had a strong distaste for most Thenns. Rhaegal screeched from a branch above, and the Thenn backed down, slightly. 

 

“I know this seems like a plot, I swear to you all, it is not. I don’t know the state of the wall, I don’t know anything other than what I’ve told you, last time I was with you all for far longer. But I have to hope that everything worked as it should.”

 

“I’ll go with him.” Tormund volunteered. “If everything worked, they will remember me as well.” 

 

With that, and some quiet pleading with Rhaegal to stay put that Jon hoped Rhaegal at least listened to, he and Tormund wandered to the gate. The horn blasted once as he approached and he thanked the old gods and the new that he was still wearing his blacks. The gate opened slowly. 

 

On the other side was Samwell Tarly and Dolorous Edd and Jon couldn’t believe his eyes. Seeing them once again in the land of the living, in their blacks and whole was a blessing. Jon laughed, “Please tell me you lot remember or else I’m going to have a hell of a time.”

 

“Oh that you’re bloody Aegon fucking Targaryen and that the world is ending” groused Dolorous Edd. “Of course we fucking remember, your Grace.”

 

Jon could have wept. Sam coughed, “Well I wouldn’t have put it that way, but yes, your Grace.” Jon grabbed Sam before he could do something as dumb as kneel. 

 

“I’m just happy to see ya both is all. Sam, I need to convince Thorne to let the Freefolk through, you know it’s the only way. “

 

Sam and Edd looked at each other. 

 

“It’s alright Jon- Thorne knows who ya are. We saw a dragon, Rhaegal, fly north. Gave the bastard a fucking fright it did.” Edd looked at Sam again, “he’d had us in the cells with the others who remembered. He didn’t believe us but then the letters started coming in, everyone in the north who remembered. Jon, we have hope this this time. Actual fucking hope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... thoughts? Also if I've missed timings/locations please please let me know! My personal favorite voices to write are Dolorous Edd and Jaime because of their sass.


	3. Catelyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I won't always have this many locked and loaded but it's premier night and I've been sitting these for a minute.
> 
> Also a bit rushed so a few typos escaped. I’ll fix ‘em as I see ‘em.

Screaming awake Catelyn Stark scratched at her throat. She sat up, it was the dead of night and she was at a camp. _Which camp?_ Her nightmare had shaken her and she felt broken and aged from it. Alas, it was just a dream. A horrible, horrible dream. She touched her neck, thinking about how Roose had betrayed them. She’d never trusted the leech lord and even now she trusted him less, regardless of her dream. She would speak with Robb and his advisors in the morning, without Roose. They would need him to do something, anything else. They still needed to deal with Theon and get her brother’s wedding over with, but maybe not. Maybe it was premonition of doom she should avoid. This couldn’t wait until morning.

 

She sprang from her bed roll to find Robb. The seven forgive her but she would burst in on him and Talisa if she had to, this could not wait. As she walked things seemed, off. This was nowhere near the crossing. They were closer to the King’s Road. Where were they?

 

At that moment she saw Robb, less weatherbeatened than she had remembered rushing to her.

 

“Oh Robb, I had the worst possible nightmare, we cannot go to the Twins Robb, Edmure cannot marry the Frey girl, Talisa..”

 

“Mother, Talisa isn’t here. I saw the Karstarks and Umbers alive and well, with no recollection of what we...I did. We’re still near the Whispering Wood. Mother, something is very wrong.” His whisper was the only thing cutting through the night. Frantically they tried to figure out what was going on, why they had the same dream. A dark laugh rose deep from the back of one of the makeshift cells that they had come to stand near.

 

“It’s not a dream. We’ve been sent back.” the Kingslayer knelt on the mud bound and tied and shaking his head laughing almost to himself. “Damn you raven, for sending me back here. Was this your revenge after all?”

 

“Shut up Kingslayer, you have no say in what’s going on.” Robb spat back haughtily.

 

“Oh how I prefer your brother. The gods know he at least knows how to lead. You’re just a child stabbing in the dark aren’t you.”  Catelyn had had enough.

 

“Don’t you dare speak about my children that way. How could you know how either Bran or Rickon would lead? They’ve been murdered by Theon.”

 

“Oh, that’s right you both don’t know what time we’re in, where we are or what has happened. Bran and Rickon are alive and well, the Boltons have no had their way with Theon yet. I can tell mostly by the fact that I still have a hand and you’re not married to your foreign whore, what’s her name again, ah yes, Talisa. A particularly spectacularly wrong move on your part Young Wolf.”

 

Robb almost lunged at Jaime who was protected by the bars. Jaime laughed again. “You said it yourself, the Umbers are alive. The Karstarks are alive. I am here in chains, no thanks to your brother. Wasn’t I already off and roaming the Riverlands with Brienne at this point?”

 

“You keep talking about my brother, which one? The one you tried to kill?”

 

“Oh I don’t deny that I tried to kill Bran. He saw me and Cersei together, it would have ruined everything. Yes, he is responsible for this mess, but really I blame your other brother, Jon, or should I say…”

 

“His Grace, Aegon Targaryen, 6th of his name. The Dragon King. The White Wolf.” Robb and Catelyn snapped around. There stood Wylis Manderly, keys to Jaime’s cell in hand.

 

“Ah, Manderly! Good man, came to free me so I could get back to the King?”

 

“Aye, Lord Commander. I fear we don’t have much time.”

 

Catelyn could barely abide the Bastard’s name let alone the treason that was happening. _What in the name of all that is good, Aegon, Lord Commander...,_

 

“Lord Wylis, I do believe that what you’re about to commit to is treason. Your King has locked up Jaime Lannister with reason. There is no Lord Commander here, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is Barristan Selmy, not this oathbreaker. Your King is Robb and Jaime’s king is dead and his son is a bastard.” Catelyn spat. Wylis had the decency to look somewhat ashamed.

 

“My lady, things..happened after you and King Robb died at the Twins.” Catelyn stood stock still. How could he possibly know her dream?

 

“That was nightmare.” She whispered hoping against hope it was true.

 

“Aye, a living nightmare we all share. I happened to have been imprisoned at Harrenhal while Wendel was slaughtered at Edmure’s wedding. I eventually made it North and home but the true war had just begun. I know I cannot convince you but please understand, this is not the war we need to care about, we must return to Winterfell. The King will be waiting, I am sure of it…”

 

“I am the King, what other could possibly be waiting for us at Winterfell?” Robb growled.

 

“I beg your pardon, my lor..Your Grace, but it is your cousin we hope to meet on the road. Though, I guess you were not alive to learn the truth about your half brother…”

 

“Tread carefully, my Lord” Jaime piped up, “The lady has no love for him.”

 

“What could that boy possibly be able to do from the wall in the future.” she spat. She could not believe she was even entertaining this nonsense let alone starting to believe it.

 

“My lady, Jon Snow, he’s…” Wylis stuttered under her glare. She could not abide the boy’s name. Jaime clearly had no respect for her or her family.

 

“Oh for fucks sake, Lady Stark, the bastard is no bastard. He’s the true son of Prince Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark and your noble as shit husband hid him away from his fat friend because he knew that the boy would have been slaughtered before his first name day. The boy’s name is Aegon, though no idea why anyone would be so mad as to name their child that name but you know what they say about Targ..”

 

“SER JAIME YOU NEED TO MIND YOURSELF. YOU ARE A KNOWN LIAR AND OATHBREAKER. THAT, THAT BOY IS NOTHING NOTHING BUT…”

 

“Mother, please. It makes sense.” Robb quietly pleaded. He had been silent the whole time watching the conversation. She looked over at him and could see how he shook. There was something approaching clarity on his face. “Black always was his color.”

 

In her heart she knew it to be true, same as she knew that her nightmare was no mere dream but she could not it was impossible. “No. no your father would never lie, he would never betray his family like this.”

 

“Mother, he did not betray his family. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives, he protected the pack first. Jon..Aegon... is blood.”

 

“Lady Stark, believe me when I say that I had always appreciated that even the honorable Lord Eddard Stark had a stain to his name, but believe me, if you believe nothing else, that boy you have hated with every fiber of your being is nothing but a motherless boy who had no say in his birth. He is of no threat to you or your children, he’s a good man. A true king. A strong leader. An amazing tactician and fighter and a king I finally feel honored to serve”

 

“That does not sound like Jon..” Robb started, and Cat couldn’t agree more. The sullen, angry boy never bested Robb in his education or martial training. Of course she hated that Ned had him take the same lessons as Robb, she always felt that it would give him illusions of grandeur.

 

“Forgive, me Lord Stark, but do you think your lady mother would have allowed a bastard to best her son in anything? Your cousin learned quickly to hide what he could and could not do and to play second fiddle to you.” Jaime offered. Cat was about to challenge that but then she remembered, Robb and the boy were young. They had just started learning how to use swords, Robb was always bigger, stronger. He may not have looked like a Stark but at least he was strong like one. The boy was slight, and she had kept him that way, denying him food if he was hungry. She wasn’t proud of it but wasn’t he enough of a stain on her home? The very Stark-ness of him was an offense. Somehow that day, the boy became angry, something Robb had said, and within seconds he was on Robb pummeling him, wooden swords discarded to the side. They were so young, of course Robb couldn’t remember. She was so swift, she ran down and with the help of Ser Rodrik ripped off the boy from her precious son.  She took the boy to the kitchens and had him whipped. Ned was not home, this might have been when he was off fighting another one of Robert’s wars. Maybe not, who could remember anymore. She starved that boy. Now she realized, it was a lesson quickly learned.

 

“Robb, Jaime is right...I am ashamed of it now but if he ever bested you I would punish him. He must have learned early on to not..”

 

“Mother! How could you? Do you know how much that could have set me back? Him? Crippling us and making me over confident, no wonder I was..am… so often wrong. Did father know?” Catelyn shook her head, thoroughly chastised. Robb set his jaw ignoring her.

 

“Ser Jaime, what do we need to do? What is coming for us?”

___________________

 

Weeks had passed as they abandoned their fight down South and journeyed North, Edmure came along as well, apparently he too had remembered portions of his previous life. As did Brienne. When she was reunited with a newly freed Jaime, Cat was shocked to see her hug him fiercely. Amongst the other Northerners, some remembered. It helped to convince those there to turn North. Roose, with no recollection of his past life, had been bound by the Greatjon. Smalljon was also stripped of his sword but not bound. When Cat had heard what he and the remaining Umbers allowed to happen to her Rickon, she almost beheaded them herself. Cooler heads prevailed as Jaime of all people interceded. They were days from Winterfell when they were greeted by a strange sight. Two small boys, one in a sleigh, and an older boy and girl in furs, a wildling woman and a Giant approached. Cat jumped off her horse and ran to them. Rickon flung himself into her arms and she clutched at him. “Mama, I missed you.” His small sobs broke her. His future no longer bleak but only now did Cat realize what she had done. Abandoning her boys so quickly and trusting in their future.

 

“Hello, mother.” Brandon greeted her with none of the emotion that Rickon had.

 

“He’s very odd, mama.” Rickon whispered, “I don’t know if it’s really Bran.”

 

From the back the two older children looked silently at the reunion. “Hello, Robb” Bran offered a greeting to his older brother. “Ser Jaime, it is good to see you.”

 

“And you, three eyed Raven. I see your plan worked.”

 

“A bit too well perhaps, more remember than they should.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, we must hope that Jon gets here quickly.”


	4. Dany I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels odd, in this post Battle for Winterfell world, to write a time travel fix it, but alas I continue! The first three had been locked and loaded as I knew I wanted to get the ball rolling quickly. I want to promise consistent chapters but I can't make those promises, can any of us ever? I will say your comments keep me going, it feels great to know that some people care about this fic of mine. 
> 
> A reminder that this is a mix of book and show, some show pairings but more of the grey Jon and introspective Dany from the books. This is also unbeta'd so, you know, keep that in mind :)

It was hot. It was sticky, and dragons were crying. Those were the three things Daenerys Stormborn awoke to. Before opening her eyes, she assessed herself, she felt warmer than she had in years. Her hand flew to her womb, discovering, as expected that it was flatter than it had been. Eyes flung open she realized she was in Essos again.  _ Jon what did you do.  _ Her last memory was falling and being consumed by flames for the first time. Drogon had been struck by one of the Night King's generals. As she fell, she didn’t cry she just sent a prayer in hopes of seeing Jon again in the afterlife. Yet, here she was. A gentle rocking meant she must have been on a boat.  _ The ship to Astapor.  _ She glanced at a nearby mirror, the reflection stared back younger than she could remember being. Returned to her scaled children but not Mhysa just yet. That meant, outside her door should be…

 

“Khaleesi!” Ser Jorah burst in to her chambers. Out of breath and concerned. 

 

“Ser Jorah! All is well, I am fine. We’re on our way to Astapor, this is likely Bran’s doing.”

 

“Oh thank the gods, you remember. I was worried, this is where the Warlocks of Qarth attempted to kill you, I was just concerned that they remembered too.”

 

“Oh Jorah.  Ever my protector, we’re fine, it’s all…”  The dragons began screeching loudly and furiously hitting the sides of her cabin, as Jorah approached. She had been hearing them all morning, which as she thought about it, was odd. During this time they would normally fly further ahead. Hunting and enjoying their growing strength. They would have only come back if… “You’re not Jorah.” Daenerys knew with certainty as “Jorah” approached. She hoped against hope it was a warlock and not a faceless man.  _ Please be alive, my brave bear.   _ For not the first time in her now, many lives, she wished her dragons were closer.

 

As he moved forward, she tried to think quickly, what to do. The dragons could burn him but that put the ship and herself and others at risk of burning down. They were also outside, and getting in for them would be difficult in their smaller forms. Drogon was furiously trying to get in through the window behind Jorah. Slamming his smaller self into the window, she could almost see the frustration rolling off of him. These moments of weakness filled her with that same frustration. 

 

Towards the end, Arya had worked with her on the basics of defense and was never faf form a dagger. Jon, ever paranoid after being stabbed, had weapons stashed always nearby. Yet, she had no weapons here. This Daenerys depended on her dragons and her guards. She slowly walked backward grasping behind her for anything, anything at all. Her hands fell on a hair brush of all things but it was all she needed. She flung the brush at her assassin with all her strength. “Jorah” flinched but it was enough. The brush crashed through the window that Drogon had been frantically trying to open. He rushed in and clawed at this would be assailant scratching his eyes. His two brothers nipped and clawed at “Jorah.” The Warlock appeared before her, and screamed as Drogon and Rhaegal started to push him away. Viserion stayed close to her, alternating between growling and nuzzling her. 

 

“Oh Daenerys Stormborn, more than just you remember you. You will not live to see Westeros.” As quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared.

 

Panic set in first. She wanted to immediately go back to Qarth and burn them again. She breathed-fire and blood were her words but fire wasn’t always meant to destroy. It could build it, could create.  Blood wasn’t always about war. Blood meant family and connections and life. Calming her own desire for vengeance down she felt a small curling trill next to her. Viserion reached her thigh as he nuzzled into her, clearly not want to be separated. 

 

“My small one, do you remember our last life?” She saw her sweetest son shudder. He must have because he only curled tighter around her. She heard the screech of her other two sons. As they returned, frustrated about losing their prey. She settled herself and took yet another breath. She felt adrift, not just because she was at sea but also without the tether of Jon and the other Starks.  _ Oh how I used to be so strong alone. Love is the death of duty Jon would say.  _ Breath in. With Viserion close to her, far too large but not leaving her side, she left her cabin.  Walking quietly and carefully she heard a muffled grunt next to her cabin, she opened the door cautiously and found her blood riders bound. 

 

“Blood of my blood!” She shouted. She sprang to them unbinding them, realizing it had been so long since she had seen them. 

 

“Khaleesi! The Andal he came and..”

“That was not Jorah. That was a wizard of Qarth. They were looking for me. They are not here anymore but will be back.” Once they were untied, and she checked in with them, she found that none of them mentioned having memories of a past. She realized that Dothraki would be less open to accepting these changes, let alone speaking them aloud.  _ This will make winning them over again incredibly difficult if they refuse to acknowledge magic or that time has returned.  _ She continued to search the ship, finding handmaidens and others who traveled with her but no Jorah. She threw prayers to Jon’s gods hoping that they were listening. 

 

As they approached Astapor’s port, they finally found a dazed Jorah who had been knocked out and hidden in a what seemed to be a closet. 

 

“Khaleesi, it is good to see you again.” He said warmly, she broke her queenly facade and hugged him. Happy that he somehow remembered. 

 

“My bear, I thought I had lost you for a second time.” Surprised Jorah hugged back. They were pulling into the port and they heard a horn sound. Then another. Then another.

 

“Jorah, what is it?”

 

“Khaleesi, it seems we are not the only ones who remember.” 

 

The dragons called out as Dany and Jorah ran to the deck. Waiting for them was Kraznys mo Nakloz, surrounded by Unsullied, and to Dany’s horror, a translator who was not Missandei. Panic coursed through her, not another friend taken from her. Surely they wouldn’t kill such a valuable person? She couldn’t know anymore, the war had broken her in small pieces and big ones. Her unshakeable faith in herself and her destiny had long gone.  _ What have you done, Jon? _

 

“Dragon Queen.” Kraznys called in Valyrian. “I remember how you burned me. How you tricked me. I have learned how you destroyed our way of life and committed atrocities, destroying history along the way. You will not die today. No, I will be remembered in glory for being the first person to make a dragon a slave.” 

 

Surrounded by archers she had never seen before, who had their arrows pointed at the mast where Drogon and Rhaegal snarled. Still others had spears ready to be thrown at the dragons. Dany thought through over and over how to get out of this.

 

“Wise master- I do not understand what you mean?” Internally she winced, lying was not always her strong suit and as time had progressed and she had amassed as many friends as enemies and the game of thrones no longer mattered it had become less of a habit for her. Perhaps it was Jon’s influence as he only lied when necessary to push a plan forward. The rest of the time his unflinching honesty was a pain to her.

 

“Do you not remember, dragon whore? How you butchered the wise masters? Burned me alive?” A sound that could be described as a scoff came from him. “We’re prepared for your dragons” He gestured at the spears and arrows aimed at her sons. “They are nothing but overgrown dogs and if they even try to burn us, we will bring them down.”

 

_ My babies. They will never get them.  _ She sent a silent command to them hoping they heard her. Viserion refused to part with her. Clinging tighter. She felt her tether on Rhaegal weakly,  _ he must already be Jon’s.  _ If her dragons remembered, and they seemed to, Rhaegal would increasingly want to be with Jon and not with her. Drogon though, Drogon she could work with. 

 

Drogon flapped away in the opposite direction and Rhaegal followed, reluctantly. Viserion would not abandon her, likely remembering a horrible past she wished she could erase from him. But urging him forward he begrudgingly followed his brothers. 

 

“I do not know what you speak of, but I have sent them away, please leave them be.You can have me, take me.”

 

“Khaleesi, I-”

 

“Jorah. Do not question your Queen.”

 

“You are no queen, Daenerys Targaryen, Just the newest whore to my collection. You will fetch a great price until you don’t, broken and bruised and a bent shape of who you once thought you were.” Kraznys spat in Valyrian as the Unsullied streamed onto her boat. Two Unsullied grabbed her roughly and dragged her off the boat, throwing her at Kraznys’s feet. 

 

“Take her to the dungeons.” 

 

As she was lifted to her feet, a whispered Mysa escaped someone’s lips. Her head shot up. Kraznys had his back turned standing alone with 2 guards while the rest searched the ship. Now, now was the time. She sent up a silent prayer to the only god she ever believed in, herself.

 

Drogon circled back, higher than before. Another whispered Myhsa. Kraznys looked on spitting commands left and right. Drogon came closer, an Unsullied spotted him he went to grab his spear. Jorah watched in fear as he was  bound and gagged for the second time.  

 

Daenerys had to act. “Draca….”

 

A spear flew past Dany and hit Kraznys dead on. Crumpling like a rag doll. Dany turned around, to see an unsullied, Strong Belwas, and Barristan Selmy. Like before they managed to save her. Destiny intervening again.

 

“Bad fighting. Good dying. Strong Belwas hates it when they scream.” Strong Belwas grunted.

 

She could have cried in joy. Barristan had died early in the battles across the sea, before the Dead were truly a threat. Belwas had died even earlier in a duel in Mereen. There they were again, and as the Unsullied took his helmet off, a squeal of joy that she had not known she could make escaped her. Grey Worm. He held the staff of the masters and handed it to her. This was almost too easy, but she knew this was just the beginning. She had to get back to Westeros, to Jon. To get the Night King. 

 

_________________________________

 

In the span of a few days, she had found her way into Astapor, back with the Unsullied. Missandei was still missing and Dany had begun to fear the worst. What they had learned was that Missandei had been sold when they all had returned, she had no memory, according to Grey Worm. He had come to find her upon waking up and found her confused and startled that an Unsullied would know the Common Tongue, and also embrace her. 

 

“She, she did not know about…” He looked down. They had been close, her closest advisors across the Narrow Sea. Kraznys, who had remembered, immediately sold her to someone. No on knew who, but Dany was worried. It could be anyone who remembered, who wanted to hurt her. The masters of Yunkai or Meereen, any of the lords from Westeros. 

 

She tapped her fingers as she heard the marching and drilling outside. The heat was stifling, somehow she could remember being cold and had thought she could never be warm again, but this was too much. It was the constant reminder of how far she had to go to get home.

 

“We have to return to Westeros now.” Jorah pointed at the map laid out on the table. Barristan and him were arguing about next steps. It had taken a lot of convincing to have Barristan in the same room as Jorah. Strong Belwas asked multiple times if he could drag him out again. Barristan had not seen the dead, had not met Jon. He was not there when Jorah redeemed himself to save her. Dying in her arms. The recounted memories appeased Barristan but did little to bring the two nights together.

 

“No. Her Grace needs armies, she needs ships. We need to go back to Yunkai and Meereen and rebuild her armies. We need the Dothraki. She has to go with strength. Now is not the time.”

 

“Ser Barristan, we have the unsullied here. They are more suited to this fight than the Dothraki. We have ships here. His Grace must be gathering the forces in…”

 

“A king I don’t know and do not believe. Rhaegar was a good prince, a good father, a good husband. Lyanna’s kidnapping was not like him. He would never have abandoned his family just to..”

 

“To fulfill a prophecy that had plagued him since birth?” Dany interjected archly. “Ser Barristan you mean well, but believe me when I say, Jon is Aegon Targaryen, son of Rhaegar. After joining the Night’s Watch, he held the wall as Lord Commander, parlayed between the King beyond the Wall and Stannis. He worked hard to balance the books and negotiated with the Iron Bank. He was voted in by his brothers, one of the youngest Lord Commander in years. With his sister he took back the North from the Boltons and brought us together. He is the reason we are here now. He’s not perfect, gods know he often is brash and forges ahead, but alas Targaryens.” She smiled softly to herself.

 

“Your Grace, I am sworn to you.” Barristan stood firm. Rhaegal peaked his head in through the window, likely sensing the topic of his rider. She had felt the difference in her connection with him increase since they had awoken again. They remembered, all three. She had control over Drogon in a way she hadn’t had before. Viserion was more loving, almost apologetic. Rhaegal, well, he was distant. Still her child but he also longed for Jon in a way she understood. 

 

“Are you missing him?” Dany cooed at Rhaegal. He was larger than a large dog but so small still. Too small. He slid his head under her chin. 

 

“He needs to be with Jon.”

 

“Your Grace we cannot go back to Westeros yet, we…”

 

“You’re right, Ser Barristan we cannot go back.”

 

“Khaleesi, please…”

 

“Ser Jorah, you will go. Rhaegal will follow. He has bonded with Jon and I cannot ask him to stay. Rhaegal trusts you, only you. You need to get North quickly.” 

 

Jorah understood immediately. At this point in time, Jon was at the wall. She needed him to go to him, protect him. Connect him to Rhaegal. A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.

 

“Ser Barristan, you and I will go to Mereen. We will destroy the slavers again. We will bring them fire and blood and we will ask the Dothraki to join us. I cannot burn the Khals again and I cannot force them to fight for me. They suffered at my hands, I made them cross the poisoned water, I had them slaughtered one by one by one. I can ask them but I cannot force them. Once we receive word from Jon, we’ll go home. We’ll take back our home and protect it.”

 

Within hours Jorah was on a boat headed to Eastwatch by the Sea with Rhaegal singing joyfully. Of course Rhaegal would be so pleased to fly to Jon. She wished she could send a message along with him. She returned to the tower to prepare with Barristan. She poured herself a glass of wine and sat by the window, watching the ships sail off. Barristan Selmy coughed a little as he asked to enter. She acknowledged him and he came in and sat beside her. 

 

“Your Grace, you trust this, Jon? I just...it is difficult to imagine Eddard Stark lying to the realm, his best friend. He was such an honest man, a good man. Loyal.”

 

“Yes, the usurper’s dog my brother called him. Loyal to a fault. I had always imagined them as unwashed northerners and could not fathom why my perfect brother Rhaegar would ever want to be with one. In the end he was human, not perfect, and he loved her.”

 

Sitting with her memories, she remembered that day. In the crypts. How angry she was, how fueled by pain. It was the eve of one of the first battles against the dead, the night they lost so many. He had decided then, in those ill fated crypts, as the horns blared, to tell her. She had been angry then, it felt too convenient, but in the end, Jon convinced her. The babe in her belly at the time convinced her. Rhaegal and Drogon convinced her. The dead coming for them all convinced her. She had felt adrift wavering between what she felt was her future and her sanity. She had been so alone. 

 

He was her mirror image in all things, but also a link to part of her family, the good ones, the sane ones. She clung to him as she always feared if she would be next in the line of Targaryen madness. He had reminded her that she had done everything alone for too long and as long as she was sane enough to worry, she was fine. How she longed for Missandei.

 

“Your grace, could you tell me what he is like? I remember seeing the bast...the prince at Winterfell, hidden with the family but he was so young. He was never around the family while we were there. Lady Catelyn felt he was a slight. And a threat. When the boys trained together with the Prince, he was not allowed to spar with Joffrey, ironically because a bastard would be considered a slight against the prince. How could we have known the roles were reversed.”

 

“At that age he was likely a moody brat.” She laughed. To be fair he was always moody. He had brooded and gloomed, the weight of the world on his shoulders, and likely it always had been. He was born to brood. “As an adult, he was a good fighter but hated it. He just wanted peace in the end. He always fought his nature, he wanted power, yet never sought it out. He was always worried about proving Lady Catelyn right. He had a noble heart that often lead him down a path that put him at odds with everyone around him but he always did what he felt was his duty. That paired with his desire to protect his pack above all, well..”

 

“Ah, much like his father. Rhaegar was a magnificent fighter and he showed flashes of brilliance as a leader. However, he did what he had to for duty. He wanted nothing more than to just live peacefully. He fought his own nature often. I was not as close to him as Ser Arthur but I knew him some. It always surprised me he would steal Lyanna, but I did not have the full story, nor I guess, did much of the realm. I am intrigued by this Prince” 

 

“Well, Ser, you will know the King soon enough.”

 

Grey Worm came in at the moment. They had been waiting for news for weeks. Pain on his face. Dany began to imagine the worst. “They have found her.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Westeros. A Westerosi has her.”

“Who is it, who has Missandei?”

 

“A brothel keeper..” Daenerys Targaryen knew who it was before Grey Worm could say his name. Sansa had spoken of him so often. Of course he would remember, of course he would have her. 

 

“Petyr Baelish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, plot twist. Sansa is next followed by a trip back to the wall to learn just exactly how things went down there.


	5. Sansa 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to King's Landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was planned pre-leaks.

The day Sansa woke up was a horrible day. Even though she had some awareness of the plan, she had hated waking up in her old chambers in the Red Keep. A place that had long ago been destroyed in battles between dragons and ice monsters. She had forgotten about the finery and how suffocating her gilded cage could be. She sat up, trying to piece together when it was. Shae slept near her.  _ Oh gods, this is before my wedding to Tyrion, if not he’d be on the chaise.  _ She moved to the balcony slowly, carefully, trying to not wake Shae. 

 

_ I should kill her now, before she becomes a problem.  _ She had no time for whatever it was Shae played at. Shae had been loyal to her but was Tyrion’s undoing. Staring out at the Blackwater, she saw still smoldering ruins that were mostly cleared.  _ This is post battle. Tywin is here. Cersei. Tyrion. Petyr. They are all here.  _ For once she could understand why Jon would jump into battle without thinking. Would it be so crazy for her to end them all now? Finally be rid of all of them, free. Simply open the doors of the Red Keep to Jon and Robb. She shook her head to be rid of the thought. She was not Arya, skilled in these ways. It would also be of no use, she needed these people alive to get them to see some wisdom. Maybe not Cersei, but perhaps Tywin? The task ahead of her felt insurmountable. 

 

“My lady?” Shae called. 

 

“Here.” Sansa tried to keep her voice calm. She knew who Shae was. Shae didn’t know she knew. This would be more difficult than she had assumed. 

 

Here she was a child, held by the whims of the enemies that had long ago been killed either by their own hubris or family members. Well, long ago to her. Now she had to deal with her brothers half a world away, try to stay alive, and get to them without them killing themselves in the process. What she wouldn’t give for a dragon right now just to be free of here. 

 

Shae began going about her morning duties, emptying the chamber pot, getting clothes together. Sansa sat sullenly, she tried to remember how she held herself at this age, how she was constantly shaking in the inside but had a backbone of steel. She had known nothing of the world and had to appear that way again. 

 

A gentle knock at the door signaled a serving girl’s entrance. She broke her fast in silence, trying to figure out what to do next, who she would have to lie to and how she should get herself out of here and to the north. Her mother should still be alive, what would she think? Robb! Robb was saved as were the hundreds of other northerners. She had to keep herself from smiling at the hope that blossomed in her heart at being reunited with her family again, after so long. She couldn’t smile here, this Sansa had no hope. She only had survival. 

 

“My lady you very quiet today?” Shae probed. “I thought you would happy about your freedom from your betrothal to the prince?”

 

_ Ah so this is before she hated me for my betrothal to Tyrion and the failed Tyrell plot to pair me with Wyllis. What a mess that would have been- but likely advantageous.  _

 

“It would have been a great honor to marry the prince, Shae. I can only hope that the king finds me a worthy suitor, even with my traitor's blood.” Sansa lied deftly. She knew she had gotten better at it over time and wondered if she had been a bit too much there. 

 

Shae shook her head slightly “I will never understand nobles. All this wealth and no freedom.”

 

“Are any of us ever truly free?” Sansa asked sadly. 

 

They went about her day, walking to the docks to look at the boats float by. She used to imagine the adventures they would take. Today though, Sansa had no stories about them. She had abandoned flights of fancy for the harsh practicalities of the north and survival. Fantasies were just that- lies we tell ourselves to make us feel like we have a greater purpose in this world than we really do. 

 

“My lady, you seem unwell today. Should we return? I perhaps can get some of the lemon sweet that you love to cheer you up?”

 

“The lady is likely thinking of her family” A voice she had hoped to never hear again answered Shae before she could. 

 

_ Littlefinger _ . 

 

“Lady Sansa, I had hoped to find you here.” 

_ Of course you did, you snake.  _

 

“Lord Baelish” She responded, trying to keep from sounding too cold, she had to play him appropriately, play into his love for her mother and her, but she still was too young here for him. She hoped, afterall, men never think they’re too young. 

 

Littlefinger looked at Shae, “Might I speak with Lady Sansa alone?”   
  


Shae bowed and walked away, eyebrows arched.  _ Shae always had very strong instincts. Shame they let her down when it came to Tywin. _

 

“I saw your mother no too long ago, she’s eager to see you again, and, your sister.”

 

A breath left her. It was this conversation. She had hated their conversations, how Petyr poked at her, trying to find her secrets like a bear looking for honey. She wondered if he remembered, but he couldn’t have. He would act differently, looking for something else entirely if he had remembered, no? 

 

Perhaps he was probing to see if she knew about Arya. Of course, Sansa knew exactly where Arya was, more than likely fleeing Harrenhal with Gendry. She knew her sister was alive but here, in this time, she shouldn’t. 

 

“Arya is alive? You have seen her?” Something was wrong. His perceptive eyes caught something. She had to be better…”Where are they, I want to go to them!”

 

Littlefinger smiled that saccharine smile. He had tasted something too sweet and he was going in for another bite.  “You said King’s Landing was your home, my lady, you’re the property of the crown, stealing you would be treason if anyone were to find out…”

 

_ Ah yes, be subservient here, that’s what he wants.  _ “I know, it is because I am a terrible liar you said so yourself. If there was anything I could do, Lord Baelish.”

 

“Petyr, please.”

 

“Please, Petyr, tell me what to do. I would do anything to leave this city.” He quirked his eyebrow again in that way,  _ I have always been prey to him. He is just waiting for me to give in to him.  _

 

Though a piece of her shriveled to cower to him, she knew that if she left with him, she would go to the Vale. From there she could drum up support for herself as someone surely would remember in the Vale. She could imprison LIttlefinger, save her cousin Robin and secure the Knights of the Vale for Jon and Robb to retake Winterfell. This was the only way.

 

“I am waiting for word on a possible project for myself. When I set sail I might be able to take you with me but you’ll have to be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

 

“Absolutely, what ever must be done I’ll be ready.” He slithered off with a different red head in tow.  _ He truly does love a woman kissed by fire, does he not.  _ Shae walked back to her concerned etched across her face. She gave her a forced smile, “Perhaps instead of Lemonsweet some lemon cakes instead?” She placed her arm in Shae’s and walked the long path back to the Red Keep.

 

Her days became repeats of her past torture as she waited to jump into a different sort of unknown hell with Littlefinger. She had to be soft but strong, she couldn’t break during Joffrey’s cruel games but could not display any of her own inner strength that had been hard earned over time. She was quiet and meek in front of Cersei and Tywin, in hopes of gleaming some nugget of news from the North. Had Robb turned around? Was Jon in Winterfell? Were there whispers of Dragons? She hadn’t cared for news in her past life like this, but now she knew that knowledge was power. 

 

She knew the day that something had changed when Tywin had fumed. He stormed through the keep like a caged lion. She had been on her way to lunch with Lady Olenna and Margaery in the gardens when she saw him thunder by. “Tyrion! Tyrion!” Sansa had never heard him raise his voice, let alone call for Tyrion. Sansa has been followed by a new guard and Shae but she slipped past them in the commotion. Shae would like see she was gone and begin to flirt with the Lannister guards they had assigned to watch Sansa as a distraction. It was a new favor Shae enjoyed performing since it provided the time Sansa often wanted to be alone and for Shae to make Tyrion jealous. Sansa pretended not to notice.

 

She followed close behind, trying to mimic Arya in her movements. She followed for as long as she could hearing Tywin so casually speak with the confidence of a man at the height of his powers and with complete trust in his vassals. “Tyrion! You met him, what is he like….” The door slowly closed. Tywin needed information and was asking Tyrion. Tyrion had spent time with all of her brothers, so it could be any of them, but still! This meant something had happened. She had to find out.

 

She felt eyes on her, and she looked to see who it was. 

 

“Little Dove.” Before her stood Cersei, resplendent and powerful in a way Sansa could barely remember. In the end, as the Night King consumed King’s Landing, Sansa had heard that Cersei had been a wine soaked bloated husk of her past self. Her blonde hair paler than Daenerys’s, eyes bloodshot, her dresses  shabby and stretched over her inebriated body. In this time, she was radiant, the golden lioness with all of her cubs alive and not quite as mad as she had been. “Little Dove, might I ask why you are here? And without any guards, we must do a better job at protecting you. The Red Keep isn’t safe.” The Kingsguard on either side of her, A Kettleblack and Boros Blount, shuffled quietly, likely realizing that one of them might get assigned her. Of course Sansa would never be so close to the Tower of the Hand.  _ Stupid, stupid girl. Think quickly. _

 

“My queen,” Sansa deferentially offered, looking down to hide her disgust, “I simply was seeking out Lord Tyrion as he had offered to loan me a book. I had hoped to find him near here, my guards felt I was safe but I should have had them follow me regardless. I’ll be sure to speak with them. ” The lie came quickly, but Sansa couldn’t remember if it it was the right type of lie to be told right now. Somehow, she felt she had lost the queer game of faces her sister loved to play. 

 

“My little brother is occupied at the moment and is likely to be for a time. I was on my way to speak with my father about...other matters.” Cersei stalked up to her hands clasped before her. Her long hands grabbing her roughly by the chin, just a bit too hard. Her eyes, the very same shade as wild fire stared into Sansa’s Tully blue ones.

 

“Ah, such a beauty, little dove. To think that one day you’ll be even more beautiful.” Sansa looked up then. Something was not right. “Afterall, your mother was a great beauty. In her prime.” 

 

_ Bitch.  _

 

“I could only hope to be half as lovely as you, your Grace.” Sansa curtsied deeply, pulling out of the grasp Cersei had on her chin. Her very touch burned. She turned to leave.

 

“Little Dove, do come by my solar soon. I would like to continue the conversation we had during the battle in the Maidenvault.” Cersei had had the last word and swept ahead of her, reclaiming the upper hand. The temperature dropped with every icy syllable. A warning and a command not a request. She was sure an invite would come soon.

 

A different invitation and Shae calling her is reminded her about this time. Earlier, a Tyrell lady had arrived and handed her a note inviting her to lunch with Lady Olenna and Lady Margaery. She had wanted to refuse but agreed, as herself in this time would have gone. Shae, her guards, and her walked back towards the gardens where the lovely Tyrells were waiting, the irony of looking for flowers in the garden not lost on her. 

 

She had yet to get used to the sun. It blinded her as she stepped outside, flinching under its brightness. They walked through the gardens, the smell of flowers intoxicating her, drugging her a little. Spring and Summer were far of dreams for her so she enjoyed the moments as she followed her own past steps.

 

Under one of the covered terraces, the Queen of Thorns held court. So many lovely Tyrell and Redwyne girls, with Margaery at the right hand of her grandmother. What a shame, to go like she did. She would have been a good queen, a wise one, even if she sought power. 

 

“Ah, Lady Sansa! How are you doing, sweet child?” Sansa took Lady Olenna’s hand and curtsied and did the same to Margaery who offered her a seat. “Welcome to my foolish flock of hens.The lemon cakes, or would you rather us starve?” She directed the servant to go. Sansa sat uncomfortably staring at all the food.

 

“I am much less boring than these others. Tell us the truth about this royal boy- has he mistreated you? We’ve heard tales of this Lion of lannister and we do not find comfort in them.” Again, someone speaking so openly confused Sansa. Spies were everywhere. 

 

“King Joffrey.. His grace...is brave like a lion…”

 

“I am to be his wife I ought to know what that means, for me.” Margaery cut in quickly.

 

_ Oh, sweet summer child. He is a horrible person but his mother will be the end of all our houses. _

 

“Lady Margaery, it is my experience that the truth is either terrible or boring.”

 

“My girl, while you are not wrong, we would still like to know. Has he stolen your tongue?”

 

Sansa debated how much she should reveal, last time this lead directly to Joffrey’s death and her path to escape. While she hoped to be gone way before Margaery and Joffrey even said their vows, she didn’t want to let on she knew about their plotting lest they don’t kill him. 

 

“My lady, Joffrey and his mother are loyal to themselves and themselves alone. The Lions care not for anyone else.”

 

“I am sure his mother would burn the world to the ground if she felt her cubs were threatened.”

 

Sansa stopped and looked right into the eyes of the Queen of Thorns. _ Oh no, she remembers. _

 

“Lady Olenna, what wouldn’t a mother do for her children? If you could excuse me, this has been lovely, but I feel the quiet of the Godswood calling.”

 

Lady Olenna dismissed her, unsatisfied with her answer but now Sansa was confused.

 

“My dear, do be careful with Lord Baelish. A man like him...”

 

“Only wants one thing from a pretty girl.” Sansa finished for Olenna. She had heard this more than enough times to know who he was and what he could do to her. Suddenly, the fragrance began to suffocate her a little, she choked on the smell of gardenias and jasmines and lilies. The walls were closing in and she had to get out of here, back North. Back with her family.

_________

 

As expected the invitation came from Cersei. Sansa prepared herself with a new dress that felt like armor for her. A very alive Gregor Clegane stood outside of the Queen’s door.

 

“Little Dove, please sit. I’d offer you wine, but if I recall you don’t partake.”

 

_ Not with you no.  _ Sansa shook her head.

 

“I wanted to speak with you, after the battle. I know that life must be...confusing right now. Nothing seems right.”

 

Sansa sat there quietly wishing she had asked for wine. 

 

“Sansa, do you, did the battle leave you with dark dreams? Things you would rather not believe?”

 

_ Oh gods, does she remember? _

 

“No your grace. I had faith that your son, the king, would defend the realm from the traitor Stannis Baratheon.”

 

“Ever the perfect lady with your careful answers. I’ve often wondered if you were actually smarter than you look. Carefully watching us waiting for us to fail.” Cersei took a sip of her wine. “Your brother, where is he?”

 

“Robb? I do not know, your grace. It is not like him to send me ravens to the Red Keep.”

 

_ Oh I should not have done that.  _ Cersei’s eyes glinted at Sansa’s bared steel.

 

“Obviously, but you know, don’t you? You know where he is?” Sansa had an idea of where Robb could be. Sansa sat there and stared at Cersei, defiant and firm. This Cersei clearly remembered. Sansa would not break. She had changed as much as Cersei, molded and tempered by struggle. A moment passed as the lioness stared down the wolf.

 

“You know, little dove, it seems like you are more like me than you know. I too thought I was clever. Your cleverness will be your undoing.” She dismissed Sansa, and Sansa could not have been more relieved to be out of the den.

 

Truly the respite was brief, just a few short weeks later, Tywin announced his plans to have Baelish wed Lysa Arryn to deprive Robb of more allies in the war. Baelish looked so incredibly pleased. That same smile playing at his lips as he looked for Sansa.  Tyrion was named Baelish's replacement as Master of Coin and his engagement to Sansa was announced. The first time she had heard this she had been despondent and angry. This time she could really see the pain and agony in his eyes. Later in life they had chatted about how she had misread this moment and how he was truly a good man. He had told her how he felt for her, this perfect lady being tied to a broken half man.

During the battle for Winterfell and after, his council was never as sharp as it had been. There were moments where he failed Daenerys outright. She was anxious about leaving him, and not fulfilling her part of her marriage to him. Was she abandoning him without aid? No one can achieve anything alone. Yet she knew, if she stayed here, she would be lost and she needed to be there for her family. 

 

The night came when Baelish sought her out. She agreed immediately to leave with him. Had she been paying attention she would have seen the look of surprise and then triumph that quickly flashed over Littlefinger’s face. He snuck her out in the dead of night onto a boat he said was headed to the Vale. She climbed up the ladder carefully and as she boarded and removed her hood, she saw someone she had not expected to see here.

 

“Missandei?”

The Queen’s handmaiden had died most gruesomely in the past, Sansa and her had never seen eye to eye but she had been smart, loyal and brave. She stood meekly waiting for Littlefinger. Too late Sansa realized her mistake.

 

“Ah yes, Sansa. I do believe you’ve met our guest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trying to hold out that this flood of leaks are all fake, but at this point it is what it is. At least this is time travel fix it and already assumed the worst. 🤷♀️ Let me know if I should keep going!


	6. Sam 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam awakes to a mess and dragons return to Westeros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long delay. This is most definitely not abandoned. Like many I was saddened by the ending and it took me some time to come to terms with it. But I'm back baby! This is unbeta'd and I did my best to try and catch spelling and grammar but as always things fall through the cracks. Please let me know respectfully and I'll do my best to correct them quickly. A reminder that this is a mix of book and show (so Olly is here but also Thenns aren't cannibals because...why D&D? Also I will miss Satin) This is a time travel fix it, so let's fix it!

Sam found himself jumping awake. He didn’t know where he was for a minute. _Still cold, always so very cold._ Blinking awake he looked about and he realized where he was. The same chipped walls, the same draft, the same cramped quarters. _It’s my chambers at Castle Black!_ Bouncing and wobbling to his feet he dressed quickly. Tripping and cursing over remnants of his previous life’s readings, memories of his words to Jon years ago about getting these bloody books sorted echoing as he rubbed a stubbed toe. He needed to know who else remembered. As he opened the door, Dolorous Edd waited hand half raised prepared to knock.

 

“Well good to see ya alive and all but, why?”

 

Sam looked archly daring to hope, “Whatever do you mean?”

 

“Oh come off it, Samwell. We DIED. We fell fighting the frosty bastard and yet here we are. Back again. Is this hell? I am sure it’s hell. Why else would we be here? I swear I heard Thorne...”

 

“Well, we’re back aren’t we! It’s a chance. I mean we know so much more now and...”

 

“Aye, but who else knows and how much? If we have to beg Cersei all over again I would rather take my chances with the Night King. Seems more reasonable than the Lannister bitch.”

 

“Well, we’ll know, I mean they’re bound to be as freaked out as--”

 

“Sam, Sam!” Gilly’s voice rang down the hall. Sam looked over and saw her clutching baby Sam to her chest, so much smaller than he remembered. Baby Sam had been taken the last time. Sam knew she would never let baby Sam go ever again. Sam threw his arms around her. He would never let HER go again.

“Oh Gilly, you remember?”

“Samwell Tarly, for all the world, of course! How are we here? Did HE do this?”

The HE in question was most definitely Brandon Stark. Gilly stopped trusting him after Sam let Melisandre take baby Sam.

 

“Tarly!” Alliser Thorne’s voice rang out. _Oh gods no not possible._ Alliser had never cared enough about Sam before to come find him here, in his quarters.

 

“Tarly! The maester looks for you. You better hurry, if I see your wildling girl here, or if I catch her in your bed I’ll have you both…” Thorne stopped. Something clearly nagging at the edges of his mind running them raw. The brief moment of relief melted away as they all came to the sudden realization that things were very different today, in this time.

 

“What will you do Ser?” hissed Edd, “Stab him? Like you stabbed Jon?” In a flash that belied his age, Thorne had Edd by the throat and up against the wall. _Oh Edd, if Thorne didn’t remember he definitely does now._ Other brothers came forward. Sam noticed Olly wasn’t there, so it was safe still. He hadn’t suffered yet. He was so young but all the same, _damn you Olly. Is Lord Commander Mormont here?_

 

Sam went to grab Heartsbane and silently swore. Of course he had no sword this time. He was Sam the craven again. Just the gesture earned him another beating. He saw Gilly melt into the background, he knew she would run to the Maester, get him to help. She was smart she would do what she had to to keep her and baby Sam alive.

 

The lowest growl,  “You dare say the bastard’s name in front of me? After what he did?”

 

“Hang you for treason?”

 

“Aye, he deserved it for betraying the watch, and I’ll do worse if I ever see your pretty bastard again. Take them to the cells and let them sit there until Lord Snow comes and finds ‘em.” _If they’re listening to Thorne that answers my question about Mormont_ cursed Sam _._ The other brothers roughly grabbed at Sam and Edd. He had one hope, Thorne hadn’t always been this bitter, there was a time when he had been truly loyal.

 

“Ser Alliser! You’re mistaken, Jon, he’s not a bastard he’s Aeg-ooof” a knee to his gut cut him off. Thorne’s hot breath smelling of stale ale came dangerously close to Sam’s face. Spittle fell on Sam’s quivering cheeks as Thorne snarled out.

 

“I don’t bloody care WHO or WHAT Jon might be. His coming back to life only proves he sold his soul and I have no time for heathens like him.”

 

They were being dragged through Castle Black. A few brothers who had come to help them were also grabbed and dragged to the dungeons. Edd was not ready to go down without a fight. Loudly and dramatically Edd began shouting as they were flung into a cell.

 

“Let him find out the hard way, Sam. SHE won’t be happy when she finds out.”

 

“She, Tollett?” asked Thorne as the cell door locked in their faces, clearly intrigued. One worried why this might peak his interest.

 

“Aye, Ser, your liege. The Targaryen Queen finds she likes her nephew alive more than dead.”

 

“Nephew? LIARS. BLASPHEMERS. AEGON TARGARYEN WAS MURDERED BY TYWIN LANNISTER.” The gates locked and clanked as Thorne and the others walked out. Sam had noticed Janos Slynt lurking in the corner and cowering as he ran after Thorne. _Good. He also remembers. I hope Jon gets to kill him again._

 

The bloodlust had come far more naturally to Sam as the winter raged on and he didn’t quite care anymore. He’d gently pushed and prodded Jon in past lives down paths that would keep himself safe, but gone was the gentle Sam he would take an active part in their saving this time. He was furious and he shook at being caged yet again. The others who didn’t quite remember were shocked at such a display of rage from Samwell Tarly. Edd managed to calm him down.

 

They sat and tried to figure out how to get out of the cells, who to talk to. They tried to match up the timelines and had only gotten as far as figuring out that the Old Bear was dead, they’d come back. The Watch was weak. Jon, Jon was somewhere North and, by the old Gods and the new the Wildlings hadn’t killed him...yet. Some indeterminable time had passed and Sam hoped against hope that Gilly had gotten out and found refuge, maybe she hadn’t made it to the Maester. It could have been moments, it could have been months. The cells weren’t meant to keep time for the prisoners, just make them disappear from memory. A voice in the dark broke their theorizing.

 

“Tarly?” Aemon Targaryen’s voice rang out clearer than it had any right to be. “Tarly?”

 

“Maester Aemon, we’re here!” The maester found his way, stumbling and slow with an aide.

 

“Tarly, your Gilly Flower found me. She’s hiding in the library from Ser Alliser but she told me a tale. A long one, a sad one but one nonetheless. A story of ice and fire. Now, I am an old man and I can be given to flights of fancy, but if what she says is even a remote possibility…”

 

“Maester Aemon, it’s all true. All of it.”

 

“Is that Eddison Tollet, I hear?”

“Aye, Maester Aemon, ‘tis.”

 

“Maester Aemon,” Sam began, “it is all true. The long night comes for us and the dead with it. We have very little time, and if Jon is out there, he’s bringing the largest Wildling horde the North has ever seen with him. This is the only way we can survive. We need to make Ser Alliser understand. We need to let them all through”

 

“But Samwell, is it true, is Jon…”

 

“Yes, Maester, Jon is Aegon Targaryen.” The old man took a deep breath and just looked up and smiled. Joy shining out of his eyes clearly seeing something Sam would never know.

 

“Oh Egg, I knew it was you. You sounded like him but almost like you’d been in the North for too long.”

 

Sam let the maester sit with his memories a bit longer, knowing all too well how often the old Maester would spend time with his family in this way. Yet, time was of the essence _._

 

“Maester Aemon...”

 

“Oh Samwell, I’ll speak with Ser Alliser. We’ll get you out. As Jon always says, winter is coming.” With that, the maester shuffled out, leaving Sam and Edd to freeze a little longer. A few days later, Thorne came back.

 

“I don’t believe your lies. Yet, there are letters, so many from the North, specifically a Lady Alys Karstark, and the Vale. There are more and it’s almost too much.” Thorne’s voice cracked. “The Maester wants to believe them and I cannot believe you would prey on such an old man. But if what you say is true..and he’s truly his grace’s son, I… I failed my prince. Again. “ the bitterness that had weighed down Thorne for years seemed to nearly crumble him.

 

“Aye, you killed your prince’s son.” Growled Edd. _For the Seven’s Sake, Edd!_ Samwell quietly cursed Edd. They were on the thinnest of ice. Sam wanted to throttle him. The murderous look Thorne gave them then could have signaled it all over, but Thorne relented.

 

“Tell me you two, what do we need to do to prepare for these barbarians his Grace is bringing. I won’t fail House Targaryen again.”

____________________________

Over the next few days, Pyp, who had been out at the Shadowtower arrived, bringing a guest no one expected and something more.

 

“A DRAGON! THERE WAS A DRAGON, SAM!” He squeaked excitedly. Pyp had no recollection of the past, he was filled with more happiness than Sam could ever recollect feeling. Pyp brought with him Ser Jorah Mormont. Apparently, Ser Jorah had arrived at Eastwatch some time before bringing with him another old friend, Rhaegal. The dragon had grown restless the closer they came North, likely feeling the call of his rider. Jorah had bemused that to keep Rhaegal safe was as easy as trying to keep Jon’s head on his shoulders. It had been a challenge to hide a growing dragon as the crossed the seas Northward. The moment they had landed, Rhaegal had taken off North which meant only one thing. Jon was close.

 

Ser Jorah found both Sam and Edd a few days later adding up what remained of the food for the Watch. In their previous lives when Jon had been Lord Commander, he had negotiated with the Iron Bank for a loan to feed the Watch and they’d had just enough food to survive. Sam hadn’t realized how low they had been, only now looking through the sums did he realize how perilously close they had all come to starving. How many times had Jon quietly kept them all from dying? He blamed Jon’s death the first time on Jon’s need to be apart from his men. Jon had been immature and thought he could keep a hold of them like his fathe...well, uncle, had kept a hold of the lords of the North. Though in hindsight, perhaps Ned Stark hadn’t been the best role model.

 

Jon on the other, had a chance to learn from mistakes. When Jon came back to life, he had been bitter even when Sam had finally found him again. Jon was much darker but lusted for life more. After the parentage reveal it seemed like he gave over of himself to life more. He defended it and clung to it. He made the choice to be with his men and over time the mistakes that he had made that lead to his death, he’d learn from them. Also having Daenerys and Sansa around did help him keep his head.

Ser Jorah greeted them warmly, hugging each like the long lost friends they were. “Lord Tarly! Good to see you hale and alive. I hope you can offer me some insight into what exactly is going on.”

 

So Sam did what he could, trying to catch up Jorah on all that Bran had hoped to achieve, how to keep Robb from massacring the Northern forces at the Red Wedding and the need to retake and hold the Vale and Riverlands and prepare, hopefully, for Daenerys to return. Jorah had heard some from Dany before he left but she had been in such a state hoping to find Missandei again and securing Astapor that much of the details had been lost as she tried to quickly reclaim what had once been hers. What surprised Sam was how much sooner Jorah and Dany had returned, it seemed the two of them had been back for many months while Sam and Edd had returned just a few weeks ago.

 

“In time, we’re where need to be…” Bran had said something to Sam like this before they had attempted this gambit. Sam hoped that meant that Jon had also been back for longer than they knew and that was why Rhaegal knew where to go.

 

Jorah let them know that when he had left her, Daenerys had retaken Astapor with the dragons and was likely already on her way to Mereen, if not already there. She was retracing her steps for the ships, gold and armies she had had before and had promised to return to Westeros sooner than she had previously. The plan was for the two of them, Jon and Daenerys, to unite the kingdoms before the dead got close and save as many lives as possible in the process. Sam acknowledged that it has been clever to send Jorah as an advanced guard. He had made many friends and allies and if half as many remembered in the kingdoms as more and more were remembering now, he would be an excellent envoy for the Dragon Queen.

 

“Lord Tarly, how will we convince the stubborn lords this time?” Jorah asked, knowing how much time had been lost before convincing non-believers of the threat of the Others.

 

“Ah, Jon had an idea for that and we made sure to follow through.” Sam and Edd lead Jorah down to the darkest part of the cells. A Ranger had returned mostly dead and then followed through on that promise, succumbing to the wounds he had sustained. He sat in the cells, alive again. Blue eyes glowing.

 

Another week passed with Ser Jorah Mormont and them attempting to navigate this new world. It was clear Jorah felt some loss, as he stayed in the Lord Commander’s chambers, feeding his father’s crow and sorting through papers. Sam wished he could offer some solace, but at least in this life he got the closure he had never received. Jorah spent many hours chatting with Maester Aemon, telling him tales of his niece who had conquered the world. How she had outwitted them at Astapor the first time, concealing her ability to speak Valyrian. Her mercy with him and her love and compassion for the people. How she embraced life but also feared for her own sanity. Maester Aemon drank in these tales like a warm broth and it seemed to add years to his life.

 

“Oh, Ser Jorah! To hear that there are so many Targaryens still alive and making the world better, to think that at long last we could bring honor to our name again, it’s… it is unimaginable. Thank you.”

 

A single horn called in the distance. Sam, Edd and Jorah ran quickly down with Maester Aemon being lead slowly behind. All rangers were accounted for, there was only one person they could be welcoming back. Jon.

____________________________________________

After getting the Wildlings through to the Gift, and updating Jon, Tormund, the Magnar of Thenn and Mance, they set about putting pieces into place. Jon was endlessly pleased that they had managed to capture a wight and he hoped that would be enough proof for the lords who did not believe in addition to the voices of those who remembered the horror. There seemed to be just enough strategically placed lords and ladies that remembered that this plan could actually succeed. What came next was the logistics of moving the massive Wildling army South to retake Winterfell. They had already sent Rangers and other trusted generals of the Freefolk armies to safely transport all those who were left at Hardhome to Eastwatch, including Mother Mole. Of course, things were not perfect.

 

“So, King Crow, will you take our children again?” Tormund asked pointedly. Jon had enlisted the children as stewards for the Watch and other able bodies to man empty castles along the wall. Sam knew this would need to happen again.

 

“Aye, Tormund. Needs must. Marriages must also be made, alas Alys may be too young for Sigorn,” Jon nodded at Styr, “But we could keep this in mind.” Thenns were tricky, a proud people but not the cannibals many rumored them to be. Sam knew Jon had quelled them through marriage before but what could he offer now?

 

“Actually, Your Grace, “ Thorne began. Jon blinked at Thorne’s tone everytime Thorne spoke with him. The change in Thorne’s demeanor was much like watching a polar bear start singing _The Dornishman’s Wife_ , unnatural and unsettling. It was clearly something Thorne was struggling with given their shared pasts. “Lady Karstark has requested that Lord...er… Sigorn… be her husband again, even if she must wait.” Jon nodded, accepting it and moving on with plans. Hunched over the makeshift map Jon looked both younger and older than he had. He absentmindedly stroked Ghost’s fur, who never seemed to leave his side these days, even if there was a dragon flying about. It was strange to see the same haunted look that Jon had towards the end, like he was inches ahead of danger, on the face of a boy who had barely seen 17 namedays. Jon carried himself like had then, with the earned grace of a king. It was the same quiet pull that Daenerys had whenever they were in a room with her.

 

“Maester Aemon, what would you recommend as our next steps?” Jon asked his uncle gently. Only Sam noted the youthful joy that tinged his voice. In their previous life, Maester Aemon had been a great source of comfort to Jon. It had been bittersweet to find out that this counselor had been family all along. Only Sam could tell how happy this made Jon and Maester Aemon would positively beam every time they spoke with each other. They had spent much time already in each other’s company, delighting in shared stories about family.

 

“Well, your Grace, I would recommend solidifying your hold on the North first. Ned Umber has written in and convinced his maester to pledge to you. As has Alys. The Dreadfort remains unguarded and should be taken. The Boltons have taken your kin’s seat, take theirs. Make it your seat of power to retake Winterfell when your cousin Robb returns North. From there, the Vale will join as Bronze Yohn Royce has promised and he will ride to meet you. With your full strength, you will likely have to retake the Riverlands. We must assume Tywin will move into the vacuum your cousin will leave. Perhaps we can negotiate with the Tyrell’s. They must know they’re at danger in the capital? They could come from the South and crush the Lannister forces as the Northern and Vale armies swing down North. Alas, perhaps we shouldn’t count too much on the.” Jon nodded. Sam knew it was sound, Maester Aemon and Jon had come to this agreement before but knew they had to present it just so for those in the room.

  
Sam also knew that Jon would be secretly dispatching Mance and the Spearwives again, but this time have him wait in Wintertown for a signal from Jon. Mance would also secretly be traveling with the two hundred strong army of Thenns and have them quietly retake Winterfell by scaling the walls at night through the older part of Winterfell that Jon knew was likely currently damaged because of the fire Ramsey Snow had caused. Jon would say nothing to the other lords until Ramsey waited for them at the point of the Thenn’s spears and the gates swung open for him and his brother. In the distance, Sam heard Rhaegal call, likely in celebration of the finalized plan, or maybe for finding some food to eat, or maybe to signal to the world that Dragons were back in Westeros.

 

Sam could not wait for the rest of Westeros to understand what it was like to wake the Dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...keep going? What did you think? This pace was a bit faster mostly because I feel the North would be in hyper productivity mode, quickly moving to get people places, whereas, less people remember (for the most part) in the South and things remain the same. Please let me know (respectfully) if I have any misspellings/grammar errors.


	7. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya wakes up and everything isn't exactly the same....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you who keep reading and commenting. I really appreciate it, especially in these trying times. Reminder this isn't beta'd so please let me know if I have missed anything.

With a start, Arya woke up, hand flying to the dagger she would keep under her pillow.  _ Where is it?  _ Groggily she rummaged for the Valyrian catspaw which seemed to be missing. In the waning darkness she realized she was not in Winterfell, but... _ Harrenhal? What? _

 

Then, like the flash of fire that had consumed her, she remembered. She remembered the cold as it snaked up her back trying to take her. How she clutched her dumb bull as he faded, waiting for the moment he would reopen his blue eyes, with a far more unnatural blue. She remembered Jon’s agonized scream as he shouted  _ Dracarys _ knowing that all had been truly lost. In that moment, she had felt so cold and so warm, like snuggling into her heated bed. Everything had grown heavy and woolen and hard. That’s what mercy was, and who she had been once. In that moment she was proud of Jon, for having it in him. Unless it was a dream.

 

Her hand brushed past something cold and iron like under the pillow. It was the iron coin of Braavos Jaqen H'ghar had given her.  _ Was this all a dream? A horrible dream?  _ There were very real moments she appreciated and wanted to remember. Gendry, coming back into her life. Knowing how much he loved her, truly her. He even accepted her anger and her lust for revenge even if he could not quite understand it. She could remember how he calmed her down and how he made it ok that she wasn’t a lady. She remembered his rough hands on her shoulders, on her chin, on...other parts. Fingering the coin, she tried to piece things together, she was interrupted when she heard a commotion in the hall. Gendry burst through her door, eyes a natural blue but frantic. When they laid eyes on her he visibly calmed. 

“Arya, you’re …”

“Alive?”

“So young.” He laughed. She knew then it wasn’t a dream and ran to the small looking glass and there she was, Arya Horseface, tiny and all edges. She knew now that while she wasn’t the great delicate beauty that Sansa was, she would grow into the wild Northern type, dark and dangerous. Having had to change her face so many times she has finally found comfort in her own. But here she was again, a child barely old enough to be on her own and most definitely not a woman grown. It felt odd, to have her 19 nameday self in this small body.

 

She looked back at her bull and he looked younger than she could remember. His jaw hadn’t quite formed hard and rough. His hair was shaggy and long and he was nowhere the size he had been, tall and looming after years of working in a forge and wielding a hammer in the fire and in the field. Now knowing his father and how Gendry would grow, she could see the rough sketch of the former king in her bull. Yet, right now he was no more than the boy who fled King’s Landing. 

 

“Well you can’t even grow a beard now, you stupid. Nothing but a green boy.” He scoffed and went to hit her playfully. She dived out of the way but her body was awkward still, and not the honed weapon it had been. Tripping, she fell into his arms and found herself laughing in a way she hadn’t in what felt like ages. Her body could remember his touch in that moment and she leaned into him a bit more. Yet, she couldn’t escape the nagging feeling. 

 

“Gendry, we’re in Harrenhal? Alive? It feels like a dream… and yet”

 

“Was this a dream in which your brother is not your brother, my father killed his and the dead killed us?”

 

Arya froze.  _ Bran what have you done?  _ “So definitely not a dream then. We must have gotten a second chance and this feels like Bran all over it. When are we? I know I have the iron coin from Jaqen. This means we’ve freed the Glover and Frey men. Think Gendry, what happens now?”

 

“Hmm, Roose took over Harrenhal for your brother, you become his cupbearer, we eventually flee?”

 

That meant….  _ Robb _ .  _ Mother _ .  _ They’re alive. Jon hasn’t been killed yet, Sansa hasn’t been married to Tyrion. Oh gods, baby Rickon! _

 

“Gendry, this is our second chance. We need to see who else remembers and if we are safe.”

 

She shooed Gendry away so she could dress, somehow being back in her old body confused her and frustrated her and she didn’t need him being there. She knew now what he felt like but could not imagine it in this body, at this time. She rushed through her morning to go and find him. Walking past the ghosts of Harrenhal she saw others who looked lost and confused, slightly skittish. Some even jumped when they saw her. Suddenly, the realization that her secret might not be safe overwhelmed her. She needed to find allies and rid themselves of enemies. Mentally she went through the list of possible allies but she realized that they had freed both the Freys and Glovers. It was a barebones crew here.  _ But Qyburn, Qyburn should be here.  _ Her thoughts consumed her as she searched out Gendry. 

 

She found Gendry with Hot Pie chatting near the forge. Gendry locked eyes with her and while they were filled with the same concern she had grown accustomed to in her previous life, the youthfulness continued to shock her as well as the connection she immediately felt. He looked at her like his very life depended on it.

 

“ ‘ello Arry!” Hot Pie waved at her. No, m’lady from him..which means he…

 

“Hot Pie was just telling me about how great you was pouring the hot soup over the Lannister guards.” Gendry was not at all subtle in signaling to her that Hot Pie had no recollection of their shared past but Arya quietly thanked the Gods. Hot Pie would have never been able to keep her secret. Knowing this time what was to be, she would follow Roose to the Twins. She would kill him before his deal with the Frey’s. She would stop him. 

 

“Arry, the crazy not a maester just disappeared!” Hot Pie brought her out of her revery. 

 

“What?”

 

“Karburn? Kayburn?”

 

“Qyburn-”

 

“Ya! Him! 'e stole 'orses and rode straight towards King’s Landing. Possible they found out but the rumor…” Hot Pie got very quiet “Rumor ‘as it that ‘e raises the dead.” The whisper was so dramatic Arya couldn’t help but roll her eyes, but the truth was there. Qyburn  _ could _ raise the dead. He was a danger and a threat and one on it’s way to King’s Landing. She could not deal with him now but had to remember everything about him. She had to focus on being Roose’s cupbearer. She had to focus on her plan.

 

Those plans were dashed a few days later when instead of the Leech Lord storming triumphantly through the gates, in rode Tywin Lannister to retake the castle. 

 

_______________

 

Arya had been prepared to be the cupbearer to Roose. She had not been prepared to follow Tywin around. She was half worried he remembered her. The other half of her feared he would find Gendry, who everyday looked more and more like Robert. This fear was new for her. She had forgotten what it meant to feel true fear. She had felt it in the face of the Other, but that was a different all consuming acceptance of her own mortality. This was a realization that she wasn’t No One anymore, she was a little girl in a very big world and men like Tywin ran it again.

 

Yet, with the fear of discovery came unimaginable knowledge. She relished listening in on Tywin’s conversations. She hoarded pieces of information from him to give to Jon and Robb later. Pieces that brought both hope and confusion. Apparently a moon ago, Robb had picked up his troops and headed north, leaving the Riverlands empty and ripe for Tywin to retake. He had come through and stolen all of the food leaving the villagers starving as punishment for supporting the “Young Wolf.” Riverrun however was completely shut down to Tywin and no one had heard from the Frey’s, the river crossing left abandoned. Arya could not remember what happened but it seemed like the Frey’s had just disappeared. The river crossing was left free and accessible and no one seemed to be taking tolls. 

 

Tywin was baffled and frustrated. He felt that this was a trap by Robb, but also did not believe Robb to be that smart.  _ No but the Kingslayer is  _ Arya mused. Jaimie likely was with Robb, and if everything worked out, Jaime should remember. Jaime had come a long way from the cocksure sister-fucking Knight he had been. When he discovered who Jon truly was, he devoted himself to Jon, maybe too much so, as he was often on his side even when Jon and Daenerys disagreed. If Robb was smart, he would listen to Jaime. Her mother was with Robb, maybe she could convince him, though she could only begin to imagine how her mother was dealing with the news about Jon.  _And gods, Robb, how is Robb going to react?_ She did not relish finding out how her brother adapted to having his younger half brother be his king when they had been raised in such different ways. Robb was always everything Jon was not, and everything a King should be. Robb was an amazing fighter and so good with his histories. Yet he was also brash and bold and arrogant in a lazily charming way.  Jon was smart too, but also cunning and quiet, and perhaps in another life, a shrewd Hand to his true half brother. Yet the Jon who came to this time, would be a different story. This jon knew true failure and knew how to command. She grinned, just the fact she had her brothers again meant everything. 

 

To add to all the confusion in the Kingdoms, there were strange rumors of Wildlings moving south and through the Wall.  _ Jon, must be him. He knows what to do.  _ Tywin had been attempting to contact Roose and nothing had gone through, she only knew this because he kept asking the new maester if his raven had a response from his friend in the North. He was not careful in how he moved about, believing himself to be safe. Arya had learned that Tywin paid little and less attention to those he felt beneath him but he also kept an eye on everything. He never forgot a face and he knew accents, immediately identifying her Northern brogue though she had tried to hide it. It seemed as if not all of her skills had transferred with her from her previous life as so much of it had been practice and muscle memory. She was learning again. Yet she could still play the game if she had to. 

 

He had figured out she was educated and could read because  _ she wanted him to _ . She had slipped, intentionally, and said “My Lord“ Knowing this would set off his alarm bells. The brogue and the formal language were a risky play but one that had to be done to gain his trust.  She knew when she had intrigued him with her half stories. He smiled at her and let her see his maps, he asked what she thought of the Young Wolf and she lied. He was careless around her but she knew that one false step and he would figure out her secret. 

 

She made sure to keep Gendry away from him as well, knowing that his resemblance to his erstwhile father and the Baratheon line would be yet another trigger for Tywin. She needed to get as much information before she left North to find Robb and Jon. 

 

Jon. Aegon. Her brother and her cousin. She could hear his voice over and over, his final words to her before burning her alive before the dead got her. She knew the pain it caused him because she had been in his place before. She needed to get back to him to tell him he was right to kill her then. She hoped it did not plague him still.  

 

Her days went by quickly as she followed and listened to Tywin. A growing sense of respect for his cold, calculating ruthlessness. Tywin knew who he was. He did not let things like honor or duty get in the way. For him he had one duty, and that was to his family. He needed to create a legacy that many would fear and a position in history no one could mock. Arya could understand that as she herself felt fiercely protective of her own small pack but knew that more was at stake than just _legacy_. The time was coming quickly for when he would need to return for Joffrey’s wedding to Margaery, and she knew that would be the only chance they had, to leave in the night. When she could see better.

 

Her wolf dreams were stronger now, almost as if coming back had exacerbated whatever nascent warging abilities she had neglected. She had watched how Ghost and Jon had worked in tandem and she wished she had even bothered to learn. Nymeria was close, so close it felt like a comfort. Her direwolf has sensed her as she had sensed Nymeria and she hoped to be reunited. Every night she looked forward to her dreams and the taste of Lannister soldier blood. 

 

As the day grew nearer to Tyson’s departure, Petyr Baelish arrived to speak with him. The Mountain had arrived as well, trailing behind littlefinger like the loyal Lannister dog he was. Arya’s heart went out to the Hound, where was he now? Did he remember her? Their time together? How he had fought for the living? Fear coursed through her, urging her to act, to run. Arya needed to leave with Gendry and Hot Pie now, before Littlefinger saw her. 

 

“Ah Baelish. My daughter had said you had disappeared for months on end. Apparently a trip to Pentos?”

 

“My lord, some loose ends I needed to handle.”

 

“The Stark girl?”

 

“In the Eyrie my lord.”

 

“Good. We need a hostage against young Stark. Something. Anything.”

 

“My lord, I fear it’s not Robb Stark we should worry about but really the Basta…”

 

Arya dropped the wine glass to distract Baelish and Tywin. 

 

“Nan! Do be careful. As my cupbearer you should be neither seen nor heard.”

 

Arya kept her head down and mumbled her apology. She could feel the heat of eyes boring into her. Littlefinger. She would need to do something about him and quickly. 

 

“Continue Lord Baelish.”

 

“As I was saying, I believe having her as a hostage will be good. Lady Catelyn will do anything for her daughters.”

 

The “s” in daughters was not missed by Arya. He knew who she was and she knew she had no time left. 

 

___________________________

 

She ran to Gendry and forced him to stop working. 

“We need to leave. NOW. Get food from Hot Pie in the kitchen, he’ll be safe here but we have to go. I’ve had a pack prepared I’ll go get it now, prepare yours. We’ll meet at the hour of the Wolf and get out before the castle wakes up” She hoped that would keep him busy while she took care of her own loose ends. 

 

Under the cover of darkness she snuck to Littlefinger’s room. He lay sleeping, even in sleep his face had a smug smile. She gripped her small dagger she had stolen from someone in the yard earlier and quietly held it to Littlefinger’s throat. 

 

“Wake up, Littlefinger. Your name has been named.”

 

“Ah, Arya. I hoped you would visit me tonight!” His eyes flung open and he looked at her. “I truly thought you would kill Tywin first. Seeing as I told him who you were.”

 

Arya kept her face calm and unreadable. Another loose end to be dealt with. 

 

“Tell me where Sansa is.”

 

“The Eyrie, I wasn’t lying. Oh, I also told Tywin about young Aegon. See, I always knew about your so called half-brother. “

 

The dagger pressing tighter to his throat was her only tell. 

 

“Ah Ah ahhh, you might not want to do that, see, I know about plots. So many of them. I have no desire to die but I only want one thing.”

 

“Sansa?”

 

“The throne. Ser Gregor.”

 

Appearing as if by magic and moving far more quietly than any man that size should, the Mountain grabbed Arya. Arya went to fight back, the Mountain gripped harder on her hair, yanking her down and forcing her to stare at Littlefinger. 

 

“Now little wolf bitch, you’ll listen to me. You listen you may live. Struggle, and you’ll never get to grow up into the vaguely pretty little shit you will be.”

 

Arya calmed herself and breathed. This seemed to be enough for Littlefinger but that didn’t mean that the Mountain let her go. 

 

“Good. My girl, Lord Tywin has already left Harrenhal for King’s Landing. I’ve given him just enough information to be dangerous. As for you, you will come with me. I’ll take Robert's bastard to Joffrey and I’ll offer your head to your cousin. He’ll likely step down for you. To protect you of course. You see, it was me who started the war. I told your uncle years ago that the Dragon Prince stole her. It was I who had your father beheaded. Now, Tywin goes back to King’s Landing where his grandson will die and I’ve plotted to have him killed as well. You my dear will be a hostage like your sister.”

 

A sudden jerk moved Arya as she heard a sickening crack. The Mountain had let her go as he crumbled to the floor.  _ Gendry! It cannot be that easy! _

 

Gendry stood behind him, warhammer in hand. The Mountain made to get up. Even a hammer to the back of the head could not end him. Without wasting a minute Gendry brought the massive hammer down over and over again. This Mountain was not supernatural anymore, he was a man. A big man, but even dumb big men could die when their head was smashed into pieces. _I hope he stays dead._

 

The bells rang their alarm. 

 

Arya turned to her prey once more, the fear in Littlefinger’s eyes calling to her as he backed away with a knife in his hand but Gendry growled, “Arya Stark we have no time for you to seek vengeance. You take the time to kill him now without his knowledge, we lose everything and might not get out in time.”

 

With a practiced swiftness she grabbed Littlefinger twisted the dagger out of his hand and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dagger at his throat again.  Gendry gagged him as they walked. “Fine, but he comes with me to Jon. Jon deserves to know how this man is responsible for his parent's deaths.” Gendry threw his hands in the air. She admired that he knew her enough to know where she would be but she could have cursed him. The Mountain was the Hound's! Sandor would be so angry that his revenge was stolen from him

 

Dragging Littlefinger with them, he tried to scream. Arya pushed him roughly into a wall as Gendry, warhammer still covered in the Mountain, menaced next to him. “Your mistake, Petyr, was sending Tywin away. No one here cares enough to find you. No one will know you left against your will. Try to scream again and maybe my good sense will run out and my Stark temper will take over.” Arya snarled this as they pushed him roughly. Gendry had his Warhammer at the ready as they got to the forest. 

 

“Who goes there?”

 

Advanced guards had been in the forests. A sick gleam lit in Littlefinger’s eyes. With a deep breath and knowing this game was done, Arya closed her eyes and brought herself to her greatest height. 

 

“I am Arya Stark of Winterfell and I am taking Lit-Lord Baelish as my prisoner.” The guards in red laughed but their laughs were soon muffled by growls. Nymeria appeared behind the guards and now it was Arya’s turn to smile. 

 

“You will not take us today.” The wolves closed in on the guards as Arya, Gendry, Nymeria and Littlefinger turned North. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline-wise, Arya is the last to wake up. Tywin comes here after Sansa's chapter and Tywin did not spend much time with Littlefinger when he was in King's Landing. Also yes, I've made Littlefinger a bit more of a shit. I've decided that this time around he's fundamentally different and just does not care.
> 
> These chapters, with the exception of the next one all kind of happen chronologically with some small overlap here and there.
> 
> So, tell me what you think?


	8. Cersei I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A return to the capital.

The heat was unbearable as she stirred awake. Simply suffocating as Cersei blinked her eyes open. Oppressive and hard to breathe in, this was not what she remembered. She remembered the cold fire of the dead dragon as it consumed her. She remembered the city burning as she watched as millions awoke with bright blue eyes. Many had slowly frozen to death as they were unaccustomed to the cold. Small children had lain down in the street from how tired they were and woken up as meat in that monster’s army. The silence suffocating her as the snow masked even their unnatural footsteps as they came for her. 

 

The heat made the nightmare evaporate in the light of morning. She sat up and her hair cascading about her shoulders let her know it was absolutely a nightmare. She got up and walked to the balcony. The warm sea breeze wafted in.  _ How could the sea ever freeze over? Look how vast it is!  _ She picked herself up and went about preparing herself for the day. Looking in the mirror she felt comforted by the sight. Her nightmare self was a haggard, wine soaked crone and it had terrified her more than the city succumbing to some awful mythological nightmare monsters.  __

 

“Mother!” Tommen flew in with a Kingsguard trailing behind him. He was so small as he snuggled into her arms. A giant smile on his face, free of any of the self doubt that had plagued his older form. Just a happy, plump little boy.  _ See! Further proof that this was nothing but a nightmare.  _

 

“My little lion! How are you today, my darling?” Tommen happily talked about his days as her maids prepared her for the day. Beautiful robes and braided hair had always been her armor and she was filled with happiness after the horrific dream. It had felt so real but perhaps it was just Maggy the Frog’s prophecy that had nagged at her as in her dreams she was forced to watch her children die one by one. 

 

And her own misery…. No. It was but a horrific and untrue dream. She needed something to calm her nerves and somehow, wine had lost its appeal.

 

“Girl, could you fetch Qyburn?” Cersei called her lady in waiting, a golder cousin. Mariah? Sussannah? Whatever her name was the green eyed girl stared back confused.

 

“Who, your grace?” 

 

“Qyburn, he is the maester here.” Though not a full Maester but one who was loyal and she could trust.

 

“Your grace, I believe Grand Maester Pycelle may be the only maester. Should I fetch him?” The concern in her voice irked Cersei. What could this sop know of her? Perhaps Qyburn was but part of the dream.

 

“Well, please bring Myrcella to me. At once.” Cersei responded imperiously. 

 

“Your grace, the Princess is still in Dorne, I can send for the maester, it seems you are not feeling well.”

Cersei looked at Tommen who was calmly playing with his toys, how could this girl think she was ill? Perhaps it was but the webs of the dream still lingering, addling her and confusing her.

 

“I am perfectly fine. I’ll speak with my father later. Leave.”

 

Cersei found that she did indeed need a glass of wine. She poured herself some and walked to the balcony. The sea breeze caressing her and the calming noises of little Tommen playing soothed her. Then she saw the charred ships from the battle of Blackwater on the water. The reminder that things were never safe and these blissful moments were calming and peaceful but fleeting. She felt unnerved, the webs of the dreams clinging at her. She waved them and continued her day, and each day after that.

 

As the days went on, things started to seem not quite as they had been. The Tyrell’s were there, as they should have been, they had saved the Lannisters from Stannis afterall, but they seemed quite guarded and almost skittish, which was not who they were in the least.  Littlefinger flitted in and out of King’s Landing with nary a whisper of where or what he was doing. It seemed wholly wrong and her father did not seem to care. Littlefinger also treated her like a dangerous house cat, like she might nip at him at any point. To be quite honest, she truly did want to swipe at him. 

  
  


Little things however, did start to click into place like a lock. Most notably was the Stark girl. She sauntered through the keep in a different way. Where in the nightmare she had been skittish and concerned, she now moved with a purposeful grace and the assurance of someone much older. She dealt with Joffery in a  different way, cunningly and knowledgeable, and not at all fearful or unsure of herself. The Stark girl also seemed to be spying on them. Once, when her father had been storming through the keep raging about the Young Wolf’s sudden disappearance she noticed the little red head lurking about. That child for all the world reminded her of Littlefinger in her demeanor and she would end it now.

 

“Little Dove.” Before her the girl slowly turned. When she had seen her in her dream she seemed fragile and weak but this child held herself with steel.  _ Perhaps my lessons have finally started to break through her pretty, stupid little head _ . “Little Dove, might I ask why you are here? And without any guards, we must do a better job at protecting you. The Red Keep isn’t safe.”  The Kingsguard on either side of her, A Kettleblack and Boros Blount, newly reinstated, shuffled quietly, likely realizing that one of them might get assigned her. The girls’s face went blank and guarded _. Smart, she’s finally learning. _

 

“My queen,” The girl intoned syrupy sweet, looking down in deference.“I simply was seeking out Lord Tyrion as he had offered to loan me a book. I had hoped to find him near here, my guards felt I was safe but I should have had them follow me regardless. I’ll be sure to speak with them. ” The girl didn’t read. She had never once seen this wisp of a girl with anything other than needle point. In that moment, Cersei realized that her nightmare was not a nightmare at all. She remembered how Joffrey had died, at the hands of her brother and his child bride. Disgust coiled in her, the very sight of the red headed beauty reminded her of a younger, more beautiful specter who would take what she held dear. This child was it.  

 

“My little brother is occupied at the moment and is likely to be for a time. I was on my way to speak with my father about...other matters.” Cersei stalked up to her hands clasped before her. Her rage broke through slightly as she grabbed the girl roughly by the chin, definitely a bit too hard. The girl stared defiantly, the Tully Blue eerily reminiscent of the monsters who stormed her city. This girl would not survive Cersei this time, she knew that Baelish wanted her for what ever his perverse desires were. After all, this child looked much like his beloved Cat.

 

“Ah, such a beauty, little dove. To think that one day you’ll be even more beautiful.” The way the child looked at her, Cersei knew she knew. The child was in the game now, let her die in it. “After all, your mother was a great beauty. In her prime.” 

 

_ Little bitch. I hope you suffer for what you did to my son. _

 

“I could only hope to be half as lovely as you, your Grace.” The Stark girl curtsied deeply, pulling out of the grasp Cersei had on her chin. She turned to leave showing her inexperience.  _ Never show your back to a Lioness.  _

 

“Little Dove, do come by my solar soon. I would like to continue the conversation we had during the battle in the Maidenvault.” Cersei had had the last word and swept ahead of the girl, reclaiming the upper hand. The temperature dropped with every icy syllable. A warning and a command not a request. 

 

She entered her father’s solar as he raged at Tyrion. “I will go to Harrenhall myself! How dare that boy try and lure me into a trap? Taking all of his troops north?”

 

“Father, I implore you perhaps-” Her scarred brother looked ages older, tired, and, perhaps, wearier? He had been standoffish since the battle, perhaps her joke about how he hadn’t lost his as the rumors had said had not settled well. She did not care for his thoughts, he was responsible for more than he knew.

 

“Implore? Me? You implore me? You disgusting-”

 

“Father.” Cersei announced her presence. “I agree that young Stark has abandoned the Riverlands is odd but entirely fortuitous for us. Go to Harrenhall and retake it. Burn all the lands and punish those who sided with wolves. But be back in time for Joffrey’s wedding. We’ll need you here.” Tyrion looked at her with his mismatched eyes, dare she say it, suspiciously.  _ That’s right you odious little imp, I will not let you kill my beautiful son again.  _ “I believe that there are people here who are conspiring against us. There’s a Maester, well not quite. I’ve heard he is wonderfully loyal. HIs name is…”

 

“Qyburn?” Tyrion answered for her in a question. “You want Qyburn here? For what, Cersei?”

 

“Who is this Qyburn?” Tywin asked imperiously. In that moment Cersei knew her little brother knew what was happening and worse, she knew he was a traitor. He was trying to defend his whore of a queen and she would not stand for it, not again. He would not take her babies from her again. 

 

“A loyal subject to the crown, father.” Cersei answered and stared down her brother. They both knew that Cersei could end him now. Tywin agreed gruffly and stormed off, as he had set his mind. He walked off grumbling about the world going mad.

 

“Little brother, brave of you to be here. Does your whore of a child queen not want you back?”

 

“Cersei, please. You know what is coming for us, you know it will consume us.” Her brother looked at her and to the door, clearly trying to get away. Cersei blocked his path.

 

“I do not care, that is off for some time yet. Imagine though, if I told father about you and what you will do. How you killed Joffrey, how you murdered him.”

 

“I never killed Joffrey!”

 

“Don’t lie you little shit, you poured his wine!”

 

“You called Jaime the dumbest Lannister but think you blonde bitch- why would i poison my nephew, sadistic sociopath that he is?”

 

“Same reason you killed Father, you are determined to see our house in ruins.” She meanced closer to him and she saw him get nervous. 

 

“Cersei, why do you think we are here, why do you think we remember? Brandon Stark did this. Jon is coming and-”

 

“Oh the whore queen’s pet dog? What do I have to fear of the Bastard of Winterfell? Or of his crippled brother?” 

 

“You don’t know do you? Who Jon Snow really is? That your precious Rhaegar had a legitimate son?”

 

“LIAR! RHAEGAR WAS MEANT TO BE MINE! THAT SLUT OF A WOLF BITCH STOLE HIM FROM ME. IF THAT BASTARD IS HERS HE IS THAT- A MONGREL BASTARD.” The pity in Tyrion’s eyes only added to her ire.

 

“Cersei, they married he-”

 

“Guards!” Cersei shouted for the Kingsguards to come in. “Take my brother away. Throw him in the dungeon but tell no one until my father returns from the Riverlands.”

 

Tyrion blanched and threw his arms up as a Kettleblack dragged him roughly. This part of the castle could easily lead to the Black Cells without anyone noticing. Her father was likely half ready to leave and she wanted free rein to root out all those who hated them. She would rather Tyrion rot down there than be anywhere near capable of marrying his child bride and forming that unholy alliance. 

 

Later that evening, Petyr Baelish paid her a visit in her solar. Tommen was asleep in her bed, the only male she allowed near her now, as she drank on her balcony, relishing her victory.

 

“Your grace, I have heard that you have had your brother dealt with.”

 

“Yes, Baelish, I have. Should I do the same to you?”

 

“Your grace, I have-”

 

“Oh please, Petyr. You and I both remember.” She spit out the word remember like a dart. His obsequiousness sloughed off him and he stood straighter.

 

“So you still believe that Sansa and Tyrion killed Joffrey?’

 

“Who else?”

 

“Roses tend to have thorns, your grace.” As realization hit Cersei, she pulled Petyr close and plotted, not just the downfall of Tyrion and his child bride, but also of multiple other houses. 

 

___________

 

Part of the plan was to extract information from the child before she let Petyr have his way with her. Some time after their meeting, she invited her to sup. She had her finest dress on and she felt positively radiant.  _ Let true beauty outshine youth this evening. _

 

She was pouring wine for herself as the Stark girl entered the room.

 

“Little Dove, please sit. I’d offer you wine, but if I recall you don’t partake.”

 

Red hair shone as the girl shook her head.

 

“I wanted to speak with you, after the battle. I know that life must be...confusing right now. Nothing seems right.”

 

The girl fidgeted, eyeing the glass of wine in Cersei's hand.  _ Is she thinking of poisoning it even now?  _ Cersei decided to draw first blood and test the girl

 

“Sansa, do you, did the battle leave you with dark dreams? Things you would rather not believe?”

 

The girl’s mask fell slightly, if Cersei had not taught the girl herself she would not have noticed it.  _ She has learned well and she is playing well. Good, I do so enjoy playing with my food.  _

 

“No your grace. I had faith that your son, the king, would defend the realm from the traitor Stannis Baratheon.” Cersei could barely contain her disgust at this perfect little answer. 

 

“Ever the perfect lady with your careful answers. I’ve often wondered if you were actually smarter than you look. Carefully watching us waiting for us to fail.” Cersei took a sip of her wine.  _ Bloody hells, this would take all night.  _  “Your brother, where is he?”

 

“Robb? I do not know, your grace. It is not like him to send me ravens to the Red Keep.”

 

_ Oh you little whore- do you truly think that I don’t see right through you? _

 

“Obviously, but you know, don’t you? You know where he is?” It was clear the girl would not break. Petyr would break her but for now, Cersei marveled at how strong this girl had gotten. If she did not hate her so much she would almost be proud. The girl played the long game and won. Won power and control from what she had learned from Littlefinger. She would be impressed except this child would not succeed again. A moment passed as the lioness stared down the wolf.

 

“You know, little dove, it seems like you are more like me than you know. I too thought I was clever. Your cleverness will be your undoing.” She dismissed the Stark girl, and Cersei could not have been more relieved to have her out of her sight.

 

The next day Petyr was obviously unhappy that Cersei had not succeeded in getting information out of her. Cersei laughed, what could he know of how women played?

 

“Baelish, Stark fled North. He likely remembers as you and I do and is likely going to skin Bolton’s bastard alive. You and I know where that hotheaded child is going.”

 

“It’s not him I am worried about, but his brother.”

 

“The cripple? Please. No one will believe a little boy, no matter how much they remember.”

 

“No, Jon Snow. He is-”

 

“Rhaegar’s bastard. So I’ve heard. We have nothing to fear of Lyanna’s ghost.”

 

“Your grace, he was a formidable fighter and apparently a strong leader, though when I was alive he was a bit brooding and to be quite honest, dumb. Quick to anger, like all Starks, and come to think of it, most Targaryens.”

 

“He is likely freezing his cock off in the North right now at the Wall.” Cersei snorted into her goblet. Perhaps she’d had too much.

 

“Look, Baelish, you and I did not get along well and I do not expect us to ever see eye to eye, but I trust my father and this time around he will not die.”

 

“About that, you should release your brother.”

 

“Absolutely not.”

 

“Your father will wonder why you imprisoned him!”

 

“And? I will tell him! I will tell him what a monster Tyrion is. I will tell him how he died. I will tell him everything!”

 

“You believe your father will believe all of this?” Cersei was about to say yes but she knew he would not. Tywin Lannister suffered no fools and believed in no gods but the god of legacy. She consented and agreed to release her brother. She could not figure out what Petyr had in mind but she let it go. 

 

__________

 

When her father returned, she learned that he had not made it all the way to Harrenhal, but had been met by some rebels in the field from the Vale. Furious, Tywin announced that Petyr would marry Lysa Tully, and Petyr, looking like a cat with cream smiled deferentially. Tyrion, looking tired but knowing his life depended on keeping his sister happy, weakly accepted his master of coin role. Petyr would leave at once to the Eyrie to secure his bride and then to Harrenhal to secure it for Tywin. 

 

Cersei knew that Sansa would leave that night and she would make sure that no one would care. The announcement of Tyrion’s engagement went out as Cersei looked for the girl’s eyes, and she saw pity in them. Her brother looked at the girl seemingly trying to communicate but the child was clearly dumb as her eyes darted to Baelish.

 

The next morning, her brother’s whore rushed into the Queen’s rooms. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?”

 

“I am sorry, who are you?”

 

“WHERE IS SHE”   _ What a crazy woman, whatever did Tyrion see in her before he killed her?  _

 

“My lady, please calm yourself or I will have you removed. Who is missing?” Cersei asked innocently. 

 

“THE LADY SANSA, YOU WITCH! SHE IS GONE!” Cersei smiled. “If the Lady Sansa is missing she has clearly performed treason and will likely be caught and raped. The city is cruel to ladies who do not know their place. You should know that, whore.” She snapped her fingers and had the handmaiden removed from her sight.  _ One obstacle down. Several hundred to go.  _

_____

The days were consumed with wedding planning and regular plotting. Time moved so quickly Cersei barely realized her father had been gone for more than a moon. Tyrion was cowering and afraid, Varys had disappeared and Petyr was likely fucking the child in front of her aunt. Cersei had complete control and her spies watched the Tyrells who would not even step out of line. Things would be different this time, she had learned her mistakes.

 

Another month passed before her father returned with Qyburn in tow. The rebels had been soundly routed but no news had come from the North. Everything north of the Neck was deadly quiet. 

 

Never one for public emotion, Cersei could not help but smile as she saw her trusted advisor arrive. “It is so good to see you again, my lord.”

 

“Your grace, the honor is all mine.” He smiled warmly. This greeting confirmed everything for her. Things would go differently this time. They would not die and the dragon whore and her mongrel lover would.

 

“Cersei, fetch your brother we must speak.” Tywin interrupted their conversation before it could start. He stormed off to the tower. Cersei of course would do no such fetching and had a lady do it instead as she followed her father.

 

She sat in a chair as her father paced, pent up anger and rage clearly coursing through him. She sat serenely. She knew exactly what Petyr had said to him. Tyrion quickly walked into the room and tried to make himself smaller.  _ Grotesque little monster.  _

 

“Where is Lady Stark?”

“She escaped.” Cersei said bluntly. 

“That was idiotic of you two to not keep an eye on her. Where is she?”

“What can a girl do alone out there? She’s likely dead. What do we even need her for?”

“Have you forgotten that your brother is still held captive by the North? We’ve heard nothing about the Stark forces!”

Tyrion then spoke up “I doubt that they would trade Jaime for Lady Sansa, father.”

“Be quiet, you are only here as a Lannister. I have not decided if I should trust either of you, but we are all that is left. Baelish told me things, about Dragons hidden in snow and about Dragon Queens in the east. I wouldn’t believe except we all know Rhaegar was not capable of rape.” Tywin, uncharacteristically poured himself wine. “To think, a Targaryen in the North this whole time? Who would believe it?”

 

“Father, he cannot possibly matter.” Tyrion started.

 

“How did you know it was a he?” Tywin stared down Tyrion who clearly regretted opening his mouth. He sputtered. “I assume this is about Ned Stark’s bastard, he was always too honorable. It is good he was beheaded for treason.”

 

“You are too sharp by half.” Tywin said suspiciously as he watched Tyrion. “We must wed Joffrey immediately, I cannot wait for Dorne to arrive. We must secure the Tyrell alliance before they hear of this viable Targaryen leader, Night’s Watch vows be damned. Cersei, you will remarry as well. Wyllis Tyrell is unmarried.”

 

“Father are marriages clearly needed? The Tyrell’s cannot be trusted…”  _ Not again I will not be forced to suffer again. _

 

_ “ _ Which is exactly why we must marry Margaery to Joffrey. They will not harm us if the crown is at stake.”

 

_ Oh how wrong you are father.  _ Clearly dismissed, Cersei walked out as Tywin continued to yell at Tyrion.

 

The wedding was moved up by several days, putting the entire keep into a frenzy. No one could understand why but they pushed forward. The Tyrell’s were suspicious and tried to push things back but in the end Tywin had his way.

 

The wedding went off exactly as Cersei remembered it, except for one thing. When the time came for a toast she stopped the proceedings. Margaery had poured Joffrey’s glass.

 

“Your grace!” Cersei called as she stood up to toast the happy couple. 

 

“Mother? What could you possibly have to say?” Joffrey asked snidely.  _ Saving your life, child. _

 

“I believe that the Tyrell’s are trying to poison you.” The crowd began to murmur. Tywin leaned forward.

 

“Cersei, you’re going too far.”

 

“No father,  I will prove it. Drink it.” She commanded Margaery, who looked pale and scared. “Drink the glass you poured the King.” 

 

“I beg your pardon, my Queen, I-”

 

“If you have done nothing wrong, than nothing will happen to you.” The Tyrell girl looked in panic at her grandmother. Her grandmother stood firm like iron. 

 

“Go ahead. Drink it.” commanded Tywin. 

 

Margaery took a sip and smiled adoringly. A moment passed. Then another. She began to gasp for air.

 

Cersei drank from her glass as all hells broke loose around her, Joffrey being rushed off by his King’s Guard, her father commanding that every member of House Tyrell be seized, Tyrion looking aghast and frozen in place staring at his sister.

 

_ And who are you, the proud lord said…. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a month since my last update. My next one should be pretty quick as it is mostly finished but then my next may take some time- I am moving, traveling and have just started a new job. Your comments keep me motivated! Sincerely, thank you. Everyone on here has kept me motivated in this rough time.
> 
> Next up, in honor of Kit and Richard being reunited in the MCU, Robb and Jon are reunited in my AU.


	9. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon comes back to Winterfell (and Catelyn faces a dragon)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Kit looking GREAT tonight at the Emmys and the pending Stark Brother reunion in the MCU. As a reminder this is a mix of book and show, for example Talisa instead of Jeyne Westerling but Jon and Robb from the books.

In the weeks that followed, and with his great uncle’s advice, Jon had ridden hard and fast to the Dreadfort, collecting allies along the way. Little Ned Umber, who was so impossibly small, rode out with his guardians and added what little he could as most of their forces were already south with Robb and from the sound of it, headed north. Alys Karstark followed suit, joining with her good family. Jon had to pretend not to see the joy in her eyes as she found Sigorn again. They all _looked_ young, but in their hearts and minds they were ages old having experienced more than anyone could imagine.

He struggled with this contradiction himself everyday. As he trained with the troops he found his reflexes were slower and his stamina not quite there, often causing him to be a few steps short. He trained harder now than he ever had before and tried to use some tricks he had learned but the truth was, he had once been a man grown and now he was growing again. He knew where he had been was not where he was. Every day he had to prove twice over that he was worthy of being followed and that he was not mad like his forefathers.

The constant scrutiny was exhausting and he found himself deeply frustrated and unable to balance expectations with reality. He hoped to find his rhythm before Dany arrived, bringing the full fire and fury of their family words down on the Seven Kingdoms and uniting them before the Night King discovered things had changed. Living openly as Aegon in this time, he finally understood the weight of his family name and he understood where he had gone wrong before as Jon Snow.

Unlike his time as Lord Commander, he now spent time with his men, got to know them. Words of wisdom from Tyrion in his past echoed in his head. He implored Jon to not ignore all of the pomp and circumstance that comes with a crown reminding him that even though, “You are a warrior who has no time for that, but you are also a former bastard who was given your inheritance; you weren’t born to it necessarily. Remind your people of what kind of leader you are.” Jon knew he could never isolate himself again.

So, he enjoyed the company of his men and relished their tales. He won several bouts and also lost a few of them. He had been demanding of his men before, leaving a space between them and him, isolating himself as he calculated how to feed and keep them alive. That meant that they could not connect with him and he would not repeat those mistakes. Soon enough, he’d be flying on a dragon and that would create more than enough distance. Let them see him as a human now before Rhaegal demanded that he become a rider again. Even if that human was but visibly a green boy.

When he had time to look in a glass, he saw himself, minus many scars, minus much of the height he knew he would gain in later years and with no beard to hide behind. He was once again the long and lean and solemn boy he had tried to forget, especially once Dany had entered his life. When he was with her, he had finally felt the family connection and love he had always craved and he had hated that they had found each other at the end of the world.

After coming back to life and meeting her, he finally understood what it meant to lead and take up space as a leader. The brief moment of joy they had had when they both learned they would be a family was something he held on to. The joys of riding on dragon back and finding himself a leader woke something in him that he now knew he needed. Each day he found himself working on taking up space again.  
______________

In time, they arrived where they needed to. A deep breath to steady himself, he looked on at the Dreadfort, it was empty now as he knew that Ramsay Snow lay in wait at Winterfell, hopefully with no recollection of what was to come. Jon had always had a general sense of foreboding when it came to the Dreadfort. He had warned the small army, fearing a siege, “I know the Dreadfort. It is a strong castle, all of stone, with thick walls and massive towers. With winter coming, you will find it well provisioned. Centuries ago, House Bolton rose up against the King in the North, and Harlon Stark laid siege to the Dreadfort. It took him two years to starve them out.”

In the end, it took much less time for Aegon Targaryen, sixth of his name, to take it. The small army had found the gates open, many of the servants happy to hand over power, even Maester Tybold who had been imprisoned by Stannis Baratheon in their previous life opened the gates willingly. Jon had a small party of Northerners mixed with Freefolk inspect for any traps before he went in, he even had them go through the dungeon below. They placed the remaining men in cells and tried to release anyone who was held below.

When the signal was given Jon advanced forward, flanked by the few Umber and Karstark men who had stayed behind and of course Tormund and a band of Free Folk, who like Ghost, were never far from him. Tormund had decided that the “pretty baby crow” couldn’t die again and the only way to insure that was to be by his side. Rhaegal announced their arrival, landing on one of the towers and roaring to all nearby that the Targaryens had come North again.

Jon quickly took up a post and joined the group below, scouring the dungeons for Theon, hoping to find him before he became Reek. When he didn’t find him, he hoped against hope that Theon was still in Winterfell, but in one piece. He found himself lost in thought and pacing the battlements with Ghost until he found Rhaegal. The dragon had started to grow quickly now that he was not penned up in Mereen and flying free. Rhaegal enjoyed eating the wild goats in The Lonely Hills on their march south, roasting them and playing with his food. Soon he would be large enough to ride and Jon could hardly wait. Memories of his very short tenure as a dragonrider filled him with joy and a sense of power he could use right now.

Though he had the seemingly unwavering loyalty of the men here, what would happen when Robb returned? Stroking the dragon’s back, he saw outriders waving Stark banners crossing the Weeping Water from the Sheepsheard Hills. He quickly descended the stairs. _Could it be? After all this time?_

He had so many mixed emotions at the prospect of seeing Robb again. Robb, his brother, the man he had been so close to breaking his vows for. The man who had been his constant companion and his rival, the very first brother. The man who, only later, he had found out had named Jon his heir. Who had had faith in Jon when Jon was lost.

And yet. Robb was always quick to call him _Snow_ and remind him of his place, the man he had been jealous of and had struggled with thoughts of taking his place. Robb had bullied him as much as he had loved him. Robb who was so charismatic, who was easygoing and strong. They were opposites- Robb hot headed and loud, Jon quiet and calculating. They had different styles in both leading and fighting. He had always been stockier and more powerful and at this point in time, Jon wasn’t even sure if he could beat him one on one. Maybe King Aegon could have but _Jon Snow_...

Jon paused those thoughts and shook his head. He could not fall into those old habits of comparing himself to Robb. Robb would never kneel to him if he continued to see Jon as the Bastard of Winterfell. No amount of loyalty from the Manderlys or Umbers or even the traitorous Karstarks would convince Robb. Not even Rhaegal would truly force Robb to bend the knee if Jon himself didn’t also earn it.

Thorne waited for him in the hall, having followed Jon as a representative of the Night’s Watch and leading a group of Rangers and Sam to help retake Winterfell as a form of penance, for once all of them breaking their vows. However, the way Maester Aemon saw it, retaking Winterfell was helping to protect the realm of man. That seat would be important in the wars to come. Donal Noye remained behind with a few of the men and most of the Freefolk host along with Ser Jorah, whom Jon was not quite ready to reintroduce to the Mormonts who had been campaigning with Robb. The men he had brought were loyal, trustworthy, and most importantly, looking to please him.

“Your grace-”

“Ser, I am king of nothing and no one at the moment.” Jon gave him a tight smile. This new relationship was odd and hard for him. He still mistrusted Alliser, but he also knew how loyal he had been once to the Targaryens, his family.

“I know, your grace, it is just... now that I know, you truly are your father’s son and it should have been evident the moment I saw you. I was so blind. Let this be my penance.”

Jon was still not ready for information about his sire but didn’t want to deal with Thorne’s guilt. He was more ready than he had been when Bran and Sam first told him, on the eve of battle no less, but right now was not the time.

“The riders, Ser?”

“Ah yes, forgive an old man and his memories, your grace. The riders say that Lord Stark and the Northern forces are nearby, a few days ride away.”

 _Seven hells_ , Robb brought the whole host North? Jon quietly fumed. Robb should have split his forces, why would he bring all of the forces North? A host that size would of course be noticed heading towards Winterfell. Tywin Lannister would easily be able to reclaim ground, unless Robb had a plan? He couldn’t remember when and where Robb had been this time before, as he had been so far North, he had only returned in time to learn that his brother had died.

“The good news, your Grace, is that they have the little Lords Brandon and Rickon with them!” added a Northern soldier in Cerwyn livery who had been present when the riders had arrived. Jon nodded. This man had been one who had survived in the future and clearly remembered.

 _Good, I won’t have to go through the exercise of reminding them all. This time we could care for Rickon and Bran will likely have some more insight into how the others were faring._ Jon stroked Ghost as he thought quickly, if only Sansa were here already. She would have things in order. A pang followed his memory of Sansa. Lady Catelyn would of course be with Robb. If he had had mixed feelings about his impending reunion with Robb, he outright dreaded her face. She was petty and proud and he had no time for her. Even if he was a trueborn Targaryen with a claim to the throne, he would forever be the bastard to her. _Best to not let her see me as the bastard, let he deal with a King._

“Prepare the guest quarters for Lady Stark and Lord Robb and any other lords who are with them. We’ll prepare food as well, we know the larders are stocked.” The servants who had come forward nodded nervously and scurried off. He knew they feared the dragon more than Jon. He had forgotten what a good motivator the fear of being burned alive was, even if he had no intentions of doing it. They didn’t know that, and so he used it to his advantage. He stalked away to find Sam, to gather his thoughts, and prepare for what the next few days might bring.

________________________________________________

After welcoming the guests into the keep and providing salt and bread, they feasted. Jon and many of his men thoroughly enjoyed the food. In the end, food was so scarce because of winter and Cersei’s tactics of burning the fields that did bear fruit. Thoughts of future alliances to avoid that fate distracted him from the afternoon's events as he played host. The greetings had all been difficult in their own way with the weight of the future in each interaction.

Jon had stared down Lady Stark who gave him her coldest stare, the one she reserved for him and him alone. If she kept it up, even the Night King would freeze under it. Ignoring her, He embraced his brothers, all except Robb looked younger than he had seen them last. Robb looked older. Each hug was held on a little extra long. Robb clapped him on the back and exclaimed about Rahegal who was swooping over the audience. Rickon flung himself into Jon’s arms without a care. Little Rickon had no recollection of his past and Jon quietly thanked all the gods. This Rickon had not been through as much as lanky man Jon has found half dead and tortured.

Bran of course, was still very much the three eyed raven, aloof and cold. Jon had tried to speak with him but Bran waited to pull him aside during their meal.

“Jon, it is good to see you alive again. Things are in motion faster than I expected and we must discuss what is happening, but you need time.” Bran whispered “Speak to Robb, you will need him in the wars to come, not just for the North. To be honest, I need time. Things did not go as planned ” Jon nodded. He had hoped to spend time with Bran, to understand how this happened but most importantly to hear news about Dany. Yet he had a feeling that Bran had overestimated what could be done. Almost immediately upon entering the keep, Bran and the Reed children had snuck off to the Godswood, likely to figure out the pieces.

Jon had eschewed a long speech, merely welcoming the lords and ladies, promising vengeance for Lord Eddard, for their past lives and most importantly a future. With fire and blood he added in his mind. As he looked out over the crowd filled with the Houses of the North at their strongest he couldn’t help but have hope. He wasn’t sure how many were ready to accept him as Aegon, knowing that several would follow Robb’s lead in how to deal with the changes but he knew he had the trust of several if they remembered. He had seen some of his more loyal lords who remembered and had ridden here with Robb, like the Manderlys, Mormonts, and the Reeds, immediately heed his words and nod, some had even taken a knee when they first saw him. They clearly remembered the Dragon King and the time before.

But the less loyal- the Hornwoods, Flints, Glovers, Ryswells, Tallharts and the other Karstarks only half raised their glasses and had eyed him with mistrust. They looked at the Freefolk who were there with fear and concern. The very few who did not remember did not believe that Roose would betray the Starks and it sat unwell with them that he was not at the head table and the Bastard was. Most notably, Lady Barbrey Dustin sent a raven confirming that she and he fresh troops would stay within her keep as long as the north disrespected Lord Bolton in such a fashion.

Lord Bolton was in his own cells, confused as to why the Bastard of Winterfell sat in his seat. Jaime was kept in the cells as well, mostly for his own protection, but Jon hoped to rectify that soon. Sam and him would negotiate with the Karstarks to free him. It would be good to have a proper Kingsguard again, and maybe this time they would actually speak about Rhaegar. In the meantime, Thorne had been acting as his guard, which of course did not fail to amuse Jon to no end. The proud man basically tripped over himself to help Jon. If only it hadn’t taken the whole world dying to get his respect.

At the end of the feast, Jon fled the hall. The more proper ladies had excused themselves quite early. Many of the lords were drunk and passed out, some on tables and others under whores elsewhere. Jon had been entangled far too long. He needed air and he needed space. He also wanted to search the Bolton library for anything he could find that would be of use.

He was not ready to speak to Robb. They had exchanged very few words and Jon had opted to let the other lords take the lead, sharing their concerns and complaints about the future with him. Jon spent the feast making small talk with the Manderly brothers and some other lords, all while avoiding Robb’s eyes.

Instead of seeking his brother out after the feast, Jon had chosen to lurk in the Dreadfort’s library staring at maps of the North until the wee hours of the morning. His uncle Aemon and he had put plans into motion but he knew he would have to earn the trust of the rowdy lords below. He had had Sansa to help him last time, her Stark name and support. This time he didn’t even truly have a Stark name, bastard or otherwise, to hide behind. In the midst of thinking, he fell asleep over stacks of maps and books. He had fitful dreams, of battles he had already faced, staring the Night King in the eyes. He had sweet dreams of Dany, pregnant and then holding a baby boy. He saw Dragonstone filled with family and then he watched it burn.

Ghost nudged him awake. Blinking, he struggled to remember where he was, half expecting Dany to walk over and fuss over him. The coldness of the Dreadfort brought him back. What a state he was in. Looking down, Jon realized he should have changed. He knew Tyrion would be scolding him, that Jon should look the part of a Targaryen King in order to remind people of who he was, but right now he looked like a soldier, crumpled and tired. He had remained in his black from the Night’s Watch save for a three headed dragon brooch his uncle had given him. “Black and Red are our colors. Let the realm know we are alive again.” His last Targaryen uncle’s words were a blessing but a reminder. The last memento from King Jaehaerys pinned to his chest, Aemon hoped to inspire him with one family member Jon could emulate. As if on cue, he sensed Rhaegal’s agitation as he circled above.

These days Rhaegal flew farther afield but always returned to watch Jon. Something about “mother” and “keeping rider safe” being reflected back at Jon through the connection they shared. He contemplated going to find Robb but he could not bring himself to leave the quiet of the library. This felt like a sanctuary and the world out there felt impossible. _Couldn’t the gods just let me stay dead for once?_

“Black always was your color.” Jon quickly stood and turned looking at the door. The guards had been instructed to allow Robb or Sam in, regardless of Jon’s state. There Robb stood, in a fresh grey doublet and fur cloak, casually leaning against the door frame with a practiced ease. Grey Wind, who had been kept in the yard the night before, lumbered in behind him sniffing the air clearly smelling Ghost. The long lost brothers had grown and changed over time, both having gone through their own struggles. Once, Ghost would have playfully bowed before Grey Wind, but not today. Ghost approached him, not backing down. Eventually, Grey Wind knelt down, baring his neck to Ghost.

_Let us hope Robb follows suit._

“I almost didn’t believe the Kingslayer, even with Bran explaining everything. And then there it was the- the dragon, lurking, it…”

“Rhaegal, it has a name.” Jon smiled sadly taking in his brother. “ _Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor,_ ” he mused out loud, though he knew Robb would not understand. The look on Robb’s face confirmed that he hadn’t expected his brother to know Valyrian. Robb seemed to be staring at a stranger. He hung back in a way that Jon knew meant he was nervous. _How long had it been since he saw me last?_

For Jon, he hadn’t seen Robb in almost 10 years, but in this time, it had only been a handful of years. In that short time, Robb had grown, having honed his skills in battle and he looked it. While Jon had gained the advantage in height, Robb was now even broader and stockier, mirroring his family from the Riverlands. His shock of auburn hair connected into a full beard and his blue eyes pierced through Jon. The cloak he wore was fit for a King and Jon knew that if a foreigner were to walk in, they would kneel before Robb and not the broody, lanky boy who stood in a crumpled mess.

_No. I am the blood of the dragon. I too am of the north._

Straightening his back he looked into Robb’s eyes. “It is good to see you again, brother.”

“Am I to call you your grace and bow before you? Are you now Aegon?” It was said in jest but Jon could see the steel behind the words and how he didn’t call him brother. Robb’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. This was new for him, Jon knew, not being the lord of a castle and Jon his loyal subject. The roles were reversed and Jon knew he would have to tread a fine line.

“In private? Absolutely not. Tomorrow? No. In time? Yes. Robb there are horrible things coming-“

“Oh I’ve heard of them. The others. The Night King. Old Nan’s tales come to life. If we hadn’t been given a second chance there is no way I would believe them-“

“Every last one of those stories is true and they and we will cease to exist if we do nothing. “ Jon silenced Robb not by bluster but through his usual quiet tone.

“Jon, what happened after I died? It has been how long for you?”

“Since you and I parted in my time? Almost 10 years.”

“So life went on, for me it is but 3 years.”

“Life stops for no king.”

“And yet I’ve heard this is not your first resurrection?”

Jon looked down not eager to begin this conversation, crossed the room to where a jug of ale waited. He gestured towards some chairs and asked Robb to join him. This would take time and ale, neither of which they had a great deal of.

Telling the tale of how he died, was resurrected and died again took longer than he expected. Robb shared his own tale, though Jon had heard much of it second hand from others. He noticed that Robb never talked about the cause of his downfall. He barely mentioned it, though he hoped that having Lord Bolton in his own cells brought Robb some satisfaction. Likewise, they didn’t talk about their relationship, barely mentioning Jon’s discovered origins except for one thing- Dany. Robb laughed as Jon talked of Dany, enjoying that Jon was like so many Targaryens and had fallen in love with a close relative, even if avuncular marriages were incredibly common, even in the North. Robb mused out loud how much Jon had changed and when Jon laughed and disagreed, Robb smiled.

“You rarely laughed before.” Sadly Robb looked down, and Jon changed the subject.

They had not been bothered and he knew the host from the North must be waiting for their next steps. Lady Stark, his brothers, Jaime, they were all waiting on this brooding King. Jon did what he always did best and got to work.

___________________

In the days that passed, Jon sent Tormund and some of the Freefolk away. The more wary Northern lords were soothed by this display and felt heard but Lord Manderly, who had joined them all from White Harbor, did seem perplexed. When Manderly began to question it, Jon stopped him. He knew Manderly trusted him implicitly, but he also knew that the other lords were not quite there yet. He had to earn their trust little by little.

He avoided Lady Stark and she avoided him. It seemed that for both of them, the longer they could put off the eventual conversation the better. Little Rickon was so happy to be with everyone again, he did not care if some people were weird around his favorite brother, or that he had a new dragon pin on his chest or that some called him Aegon. Everyone was weird now he would proudly state.

Bran had found time to sit with Jon, explaining where everyone was, except Sansa. He said he couldn’t quite figure her out yet. Jon had given up forcing Bran to tell him what he needed. He might have continued in a previous life but he knew better now, though he appreciated when he heard that Barristan had found Dany. Not that she needed the protection but it still gave hims some sense of security.

When he pressed his brother on what to do, Bran looked at him and said he knew but he couldn’t share yet, that things had to play out accordingly. Bran also warned his brother that he had to head back to Bloodraven again.

“What could you possibly do there?”

“There are steps that have to be taken, Jon. I must do this.” With that, Bran rolled away enigmatically, with the Reed children trailing behind him.

Jon and Sam eventually found some common ground with the Karstarks, promising them some land and money in exchange for Jaime. They were granting them the Dreadfort in addition to not having to pay taxes for five years. Alys’s pleading helped their case as she explained how Jaime had helped them in the future. The next step was breaking the news of their future in-laws and who exactly would get the Dreadfort, but Jon felt that could wait for now.

Robb attempted to interject in these negotiations but his relationship had soured with them enough and he could find no way in. They had more respect for the former Bastard of Winterfell than the so called former king in the north. It was a careful balance Jon had to navigate until Robb bent the knee. He hadn’t let Robb in on all the planning knowing that Robb wasn’t ready to face his mistakes. Robb would pace in the meetings he was in as he felt effectively declawed, saying as much to Jon. “The Dragons clearly are more fearsome than wolves.” Jon shook his head as Ser Jaime scoffed in the background.

Jaime had taken to following Jon around, offering advice when necessary and helping bridge the gaps in training that some faced in the yard. Jon hadn’t realized how much he had begun to depend on the Lannister, especially now as his relationship with Robb was difficult at best. Jon had always trusted and worked with Tyrion, but Jaime continued to prove his worth.

Jaime was entirely too loyal. Between him and Thorne, Jon found he was well protected but he felt like he needed someone to challenge him as he thought through the next steps. Dany had always filled that role. Jaime and Thorne were wise advisers and were great at training the men, but Jon knew that they would need to ride out soon to take back Winterfell and they needed a plan. Winterfell was first, then the rest of the realm then the Night King. He had to do this quickly and with as little bloodshed as possible. Any deaths would add to the army of the undead. He couldn’t get completely lost in this war as the greatest one was to come.

There was endless back and forth over how to take back Winterfell. Some wanted to challenge Ramsay Snow openly, others wanted to lay siege to Winterfell. In this Robb felt comfortable, as he knew Winterfell and was a seasoned battle commander. Robb wisely challenged each lord and tried to find other solutions while Jon sat quietly and let them talk, moving the conversation when necessary but observing. Robb was visibly starting to get impatient with Jon who seemed to be indecisive.

Alone, Robb pressed him. “We must ride for Winterfell immediately, we need to remove the Bastard and take back our home.” Robb paced back and forth, a wolf trapped in a cage. Jon stood at the map table calmly calculating how long it would take to get from Winterfell to Dragonstone.

“Your home, Robb. Your keep.” Jon said quietly as he stared at the map.

“It was always your home as well! What has come over you? What kind of king let alone a lord would allow his generals to go on unchecked for hours? You must decide or else I will do it for you.” There it was. What Jon had been waiting for, the challenge.

“Winterfell is where I grew up, yes, but my home is no longer there.”

“Oh you fancy that the Red Keep is?” Rob snapped.

“Oh no, it is just that home has taken on a different meaning for me.” Robb paused and stared at him, clearly expecting an explanation for that but one never came from Jon. Instead, Jon decided to finally let his brother in.

“Robb, we cannot ride out, full force barreling towards Winterfell. You and I both know that to lay siege would prove folly and thousands will die. So then what? Meet Ramsay on the field? He is expecting that and having fought him before, he does not play fair. Thousands will die. I’ve been waiting and allowing the lords to think these things through. Why? I could come out and tell them that we would split forces have a reserve waiting and lure out Ramsay to take him on. Then our reserves would enter Winterfell while the bulk of our forces remained to greet him. But, to hear it from the Bastard of Winterfell? No. Let them come to it on their own. Let them realize that they are not thinking on their own. When the time is right, we’ll suggest the right path forward. Then we ride.”

Robb sat silenced. Jon knew he had always demanded of his troops and his vassals. He had the confidence of a man who held power uncontested. Jon had fought for his power, quietly, and was still earning their loyalty. He had to be cunning. Robb saw it now, Jon had been quietly steering conversations in that direction the whole time, quietly turning down things and pushing other lords to expand on suggestions. Robb had been killed by his bannerman for being a weak leader. Jon had been killed for lack of trust. One of them had gotten the chance to learn from it.

“I see now, you were stabbed for telling others what to do when they did not believe in it. Now you have learned to make sure that they understand why if nothing else. You were always smart when we were younger but you seemed to have learned some hard lessons”

Jon smiled sadly, rubbing the ghost of a scar on his chest. He walked across the room to where the ale was “Hard earned wisdom, I fear. But enough of that, tomorrow the lords will come to this conclusion and we will likely ride. Let’s take tonight and talk of better things. Tell me about your lady?” Robb seemed to perk up at that.

“Talisa? Oh, brother. I don’t know where to begin. She was a spitfire. She was beautiful and yet, she was foreign.” Robb picked up the proffered horn of ale. Robb stared glumly into it. “She was my greatest joy and my greatest regret.”

“She sounds like Dany. Except I have no regrets, no one was better suited to rule. A handful and filled with as much fire as any Dragon but we worked well together. When Daeron was born, she had never been more fierce, more strong. I cannot fathom why anyone would think women are weak when they are capable of bringing life into this world.” The memory of his little boy was fleeting. He had died in the cold, like so many children.

“A son? I wish I had had a chance to meet mine. Roose took him from me. We were to name him Ned, after father.”

“Lord Stark would have been proud.”

“He was you father too-”

“Aye, but he also lied to me.” Jon did not want to tread down this line, silencing his brother before it continued. “Will you seek her out again? She is likely in the Riverlands still.”

“No, this time I will do my duty. I will do what I must. But Jon, father-”

“I for one cannot wait to find Daenerys again. Bran tells me she has finally reached Mereen.”

“Jon, why are you avoiding this conversation?”

“Because I do not care that what he did was right, or honorable, or for my safety. He allowed his friend to be king. In return, Robert Baratheon allowed Tywin Lannister to have his way. Tywin, who was an opportunistic and evil man, killed my blood siblings. Tywin who would see the realm come to ruin if only for the glory of his family’s name murdered Robert by forcing him to marry Cersei. Robb, I am the remains of a union that tore this realm apart, and we can talk to your heart’s content about it in time, but right now it is something I do not wish to discuss.” Robb sat as if he had been whacked on the training field with the flat of a sword. He did not know what he had wandered into.

Jon got up and went to check on Rhaegal, Ghost trailing behind. The next day, as Jon predicted, the lords agreed on a plan and they rode out to Winterfell, splitting into fractions and prepared to take Ramsay by surprise.  
_______

Winterfell was about a fortnight ride from the Dreadfort. For some reason, Lady Stark had chosen to join them, leaving the young boys behind at the Dreadfort with some Manderly and Reed men. Jon assumed she wanted to watch him to make sure he wouldn’t take Winterfell for himself at the possible cost of her babies again. Jon couldn’t understand this woman in any way.

He rode with his brother again, laughed with his men, and found time to worry. The night before they were to meet Ramsay, filled with nerves and not feeling ready to drink, he went to seek out Rhaegal who had been flying at night to avoid detection. Ghost silently walked behind him. Jaime hovered at a distance as he watched his King stroke Rhaegal.

“It’s strange to see you like this again.” Jaime mused out loud, “Like a lost puppy. I’d forgotten what a child you were, a grumpy and foreboding one.”

“You’ll get used to. How does it feel to have your hand back?”

“Odd. I have been trying to train with my left again, in case the gods find it humorous to remove my hand again. It feels good to be feared and not pitied.” Jon smiled at the Kingslayer. _Of course he enjoys being feared._

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being around.”

“Why?”

“Remember how we met? How you mocked me? How I stood like a dumb idiot and took it. Gods, I idolized you and you wrecked me.”

“To be fair, you did look quite dumb.” Jon snorted. Jaime had become unwaveringly loyal, his gallows humor pulling them through so many nights. The first time Jon had been ready to talk about Rhaegar, Jaime had been there.

“And now? I probably look just as dumb again.” Jaime hummed at Jon’s question.

“You’re young again, it’s true. As you got older, you began to actually look like your blood father and that may have been because you finally learned to carry yourself. It’s hard to see when you’re around your Stark relatives, but you and Rhaegar share so much. He too struggled with being a leader. I know you are a good one. You’ve done it, just be better this time.” Jon listened, finally releasing Rhaegal to go hunt. Rhaegal chirped delightedly reminding Jon who he was as well.

“Jaime, your sister is likely telling your father as we speak that I am an Aegon he did not succeed in killing, what should we expect?”

“Everything.” Jon sighed. With that the once and future dragon King and the Kingslayer went back to camp, prepared for what might lay ahead.  
____________________________

The next morning was ominously grey. Ramsay Snow rode out for a parley with Robb and Jon.

“Did the black bastard brother betray his vows? Oh dear, we will have to do something about that.” Jon stared at him cooly. He would not be pushed by this petulant child again. Robb, however, fumed beside him.

“What King Robb? Not able to do your duty? Shame that you entrusted a squid to do it for you. Lady Stark! I look forward to you in my bed this evening. I simply cannot wait to taste the trout.” Ramsay licked his lips. Robb was set to launch himself at him, but Jon spoke quickly.

“Snow, you have a choice. We can deal with this, you and I in single combat, or we can meet on the field tomorrow. You are outmanned, outflanked and alone.” Jon watched him bristle at being called Snow. Ramsay had never learned the first lesson Jon had learned from Tyrion. Own who you are so the world can’t hurt you with it.

“Who says I have any intention of leaving Winterfell. I am protected by the rules of parley- your Stark honor won’t let you harm me while we treat with one another. I came to take your measure, Snow, and I find it lacking. As a Bolton, because the king legitimized me in case you didn’t hear while you were fucking wildings, I am now Warden in the North. Winterfell is mine and it will remain mine.”

“A Bastard southern king, legitimizing a bastard? You cannot be Warden if I am King in the North.” Robb growled.

“Ah but bastard or no, good king Joffrey made me warden, and as we know, the warden holds Winterfell. You’re nothing but an outlaw king with a traitorous bastard brother who can’t keep vows to save his life. Pity really. The great Robb Stark is but a boy playing at war and is going to die.” Jon had had enough. Having been on the end of Snow’s torment before he was ready to intervene.

“Snow, I assume you don’t want to get this over with through single combat?” Ramsay shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but before he could, Jon cut him off. “The cowards way, so be it. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” Jon rode off in a hurry to the command tent forcing Robb to follow him. He could hear Robb cursing the whole way back. Ramsay rode back to Winterfell.

“What in seven hells are you thinking Jon?” Robb burst out as they arrived at the command tent.

“Ramsay will attempt to attack us tonight. He knows we have the numbers. He‘ll try to play dirty. That’s when we’ll be waiting for him. Discreetly alert the men to not sleep tonight, but feign sleep. When Ramsay comes we’ll be waiting for him. We must give off the air that we’re preparing for battle tomorrow but when he sneaks on us, we’ll all rise.” Robb sat with the plan.

“You know for sure he will attack at night?”

“As sure as there’s snow in the north.” Jon couldn’t tell him how he was sure. But he was.

“Fine, I’ll work with you to tell the lords. Then we’ll go about preparing for battle.”

They made quick work of telling the generals who told captains and on and on. Soon they found themselves at a fire drinking watered down ale and sharing stories, preparing for the night ahead.

Many men were sharing stories of the past futures and of what was to come. Jon quietly thanked the gods that somehow Winterfell was skipped since Ramsay has no recollection. The men with him didn’t seem to either but it was a blessing. Less lives would be lost this way. He was lost in his mind when he was called back to the revelry that the troops were having. What had been a set-up to trick the Bolton Bastard had turned to actual merriment.

“Jon- sing for us!” A man with the Manderly merman called to him. A rousing chorus of pleas joined in. In his previous life he rarely sang though he had learned. At first it was because bastard’s didn’t have time to enjoy the finer things, then he avoided any comparison to his blood father. But as the war in the North raged on, he found that the men needed other ways to release their fears. He was thinking about what song to sing when Robb interjected-

“Jon can’t sing! He’s never sung in his life” and he started laughing raucously. Lady Catelyn sat off to the side with a grimace on her face.

“His grace can and does sing.” Jaime offered quietly.

“Go ahead then! Sing!” Robb laughed as waited for Jon to make a fool of himself. A call for Jenny’s Song came from the back.

Jon smiled, “Perhaps something a bit more fun?” That song, especially with how it reminded him of Dany and his Targaryen family was not one he wanted to sing tonight.

 _“The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_  
_and her kisses were warmer than spring._  
_But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_  
_and its kiss was a terrible thing…._

As he started the bawdy song Robb nearly spit out his ale. The crowd cheered and soon joined into the second and third versus delighting in the strangeness of a king singing for them. Lady Catelyn looked apoplectic, as if the realization that he truly was Rhaegar’s son had finally hit her. Jon had heard before that his voice often sounded like his father’s, shame he could not play the harp like him.

_“But what does it matter for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife.”_

More songs followed and soon one by one the army went to their tents to wait for Ramsay.

It was passed the hour of the Wolf when Jon and Robb, both in the same command tent, were alerted by the wolves that something was happening. Jon looked through Ghost’s eyes and saw the Bolton Bastard’s small army barefoot and sneaking through the forest. Ghost began to howl, Grey Wind joined in. They were the alarm.

Coming out of Ghost, he signaled to the captains to begin the plan, the goal was to capture as many as possible and attempt to not kill them, they would need the men.

Jon walked outside, Longclaw in hand, Robb not too far behind him. It was dark and Jon knew he wouldn’t be able to use Rhaegal until the sun came up and he would enact the final part of his plan. He could see the barest hint of light grey at the horizon.

Men started shouting and truly the melee began. Quickly and brutally, Jon found himself again in the hum of battle. A few times he managed to dive out of the way of an oncoming attack. He parried, dodged, and turned in time to his own rhythmic heartbeat. When he could catch a moment he would check in on Robb. He admired how Robb had grown as a fighter. He scanned the battlefield looking for the Bolton pink and he saw him. Ramsay had yet to enter the fray, standing back with a look of increasing horror on his face.

With a single minded focus, Jon cut through the crowd towards Ramsay. He almost got to him as he was side swiped by a Bolton man, a small cut on his face fueled his anger and he turned and immediately killed the man. The commotion was enough to alert Ramsay. Upon seeing Jon approach, covered in blood with Valyrian steel sword at the ready, the coward ran.

Unfortunately for him light had broken and from the clouds came a furious Rhaegal, channeling all of the anger that Jon had. He screeched and blew fire in the air, causing Ramsay to stumble and fall. The gates to Winterfell opened and Ramsay picked himself up and ran to them quickly, clearly seeing an opportunity to hide behind the safety of the walls.

Until he saw the men who were pouring out were wearing Freefolk furs.

Jon had sent Tormund and a small group of 50 Freefolk to take Winterfell while the battle raged on, letting him know how to sneak in. It was a secret known to the Stark family, as Bran and Rickon had used it to sneak out in their previous lives and Freefolk had no issues scaling walls. Jon knew it was a calculated risk as the lords would think he had given away Winterfell’s secrets but he needed the battle to end quickly. In the end, they were all on the same side and he hoped to convince them of that.

 _Robb could also close that exit for the future and use it as a trap_ \- Jon would remember to offer that.

The battle clearly won, many of Ramsay’s men had dropped their swords and were on their knees. Faced with the numbers and the screeching dragon above, they knew a battle was lost.

Dragged to his feet by Tormund, Ramsay was brought before Jon. Robb rode up quickly.

“How did they know to get into Winterfell?” Robb launched his question like an arrow at Jon. He knew very well what Robb intended to imply.

“I did.”

“You gave the keys to the north to Wildling heathers?” shrieked Lady Catelyn. She had been hiding through the battle but now saw fit to show herself. “You power hungry bastard! You wanted Winterfell for yourself! You are a wildling lover, a liar, no true born son would allow heathens into their home like this-”

“Lady Stark, they follow the same gods as your son. I tolerate you for the love I have for your son but-“

“LOVE FOR MY SON? If you loved him as much as you loved these wildings I would believe you but you are a weak, power hungry, creature, no better than them.”

Some lords joined her, though Jon was pleased to see so many set their faces in a mix of disgust at Lady Catelyn’s claims and pride in Jon. Many clearly knew that what Jon had done had saved lives and time for though they had the numbers,  
Ramsay was a brutal and tricky fighter. Though they would have won, they likely would have lost many.

Robb’s face was unreadable. Frozen with rage and confusion.

Silence echoed throughout until Ramsay Snows’s laugh rant high and clear. “Is this to be believed? Is Jon Snow truly the bastard and is taking the throne from his brother. This is delicious, I for one welcome the change and the betrayal.”

A Manderly guard who had approached him during the time struck him down.

“That is King Aegon the Sixth of his name to you. You will show respect.” Rhaegal roared out as he landed on one of Winterfell’s towers.

“He is no king!” Catelyn couldn’t handle it. “A wildling loving bastard, he’s trying to steal  
My son’s birthright he’s…”

_Enough. Now is the time they see who I am._

“Aye, I’m a wildling lover. Aye, I approach things with the single mindedness and thirst that you all attribute to bastards. Yes, I am ruthless, but not without reason. Ned- did I show the children of traitors mercy? Did I not give you an opportunity to redeem yourself?”

“Yes, your grace.” squeaked the young Umber boy who appeared to be no more than 8 or 9 name days and really should have been nowhere near battle.

“Samwell, did I not execute those who committed treason when I was Lord Commander?”

“Yes, your grace” Sam stammered, not sure what Jon was hoping to achieve.

“You all know me. Many know me only as the Bastard of Winterfell, the sole stain on Lord Eddard Stark’s honor. Some of you may know me as the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. The Lord Commander who let the Wildlings through. Many of you may know me as the King in the North…” Jon paused and looked pointedly at Robb and Lady Stark here, knowing that this unsettled them proving to them that he was trying to steal Robb’s birthright. “A king that gave his throne up to a foreign whore.” He eyed the crowd as he tinged his voice with Valyrian steel.

“But, still more of you may know me as Aegon Targaryen, sixth of my name. You know me as someone whose single minded purpose was to save all of you. Yes I love the Freefolk, the way I love all the people of the North and the other kingdoms. We are no different, and when the cold winds blow bringing the dead we all must stand together. Everyone not alive is our enemy and we need to work together to keep ourselves alive. I can’t promise you all that this will be easy or that it is even the best path forward. We cannot have more senseless death as every death adds to the army of the dead. We need to fight them, together.” Rhaegal roared, punctuating Jon’s speech. Reminding them what Fire and Blood meant. The crowd before him had listened raptly, likely because of the emerald dragon looming near Jon. Some seemed shaken to their core while others stood defiantly eyeing him coldly. Jon had to be prepared to show strength and to prove he was Aegon and not Jon.

Robb’s face was blank as he stared at his brother. Jon quietly beseeched him to bend the knee, to give in. In the end it was the kingmaker, the Greatjon that forced Robb’s hand.

“Aye, a right sullen shit you always were but it seems like sense was beat into you. Guess that is what happens when you’re killed, raised from the dead and killed and raised again. Let us hope that thrice is the charm, aye? I’ve heard of you boy. I’ve seen you fight. Dead men sound crazy but the last thing I remember was wasting away in a cell at the Twins, slowly dying. Then I was back again, alive and well and whole. You may be a Dragon but you’re enough of a Wolf that I’d follow ya.” Then the Greatjon knelt.

Rickard Karstark nodded, “Aye, I remember the bastard boy. I’ve seen you fight. I will say this, you brought me Torrhen and Harrion back. I cannot undo what Harald did but he is yours to deal with in anyway.” Then Lord Karstark knelt.

The crowd looked to Robb. Jon knew that with two of Robb’s liege lords, the most prominent houses that weren’t already openly loyal like the Manderlys and Reeds, Robb had to kneel or all was lost. Jon hated that it had to be this way. He didn’t want Robb to feel forced into this. Yet he needed his trust.

“You were always a Stark to me. My brother. This world is upside down and while I cannot say I understand it, I trust you.” Then, like their forefathers, a Stark King knelt to Aegon Targaryen and his dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a reminder that I am unbeta'd and while I do my best to throughly research and reread portions of the books before posting, things do slip through. I feel like we're all collaborative here so please keep me honest and on my toes!


	10. Catelyn II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cat's POV on recent event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did not expect to get this out so fast as I struggle with Cat. A reminder, this is a mix of show and books. So here little Robert Arryn is Robert or Sweetrobin and not Robin BUT Cat prayed to save Jon from a fever (I did love that bit of characterization).

Catelyn Stark had been filled with joy when she was first reunited with her youngest boys outside of Winterfell. She had clutched little Rickon to her chest never wanting to let him go. When she went to include her sweet Brandon in her embrace, he pulled away. 

 

“Now is not the time mother. We must make it to Jon at the Dreadfort, he will need us.” That was enough to make her feel ill. Cat had dealt with the Kingslayer’s constant pride of the Bastard for weeks on end as they traveled north. She felt that Robb had entertained him because this was all thoroughly out of the ordinary. Cat, however, had very little patience left for it by the time her Brandon had found her. She could believe many things, but she continued to struggle with the idea of the Bastard being royalty. 

 

“Brandon, that...boy… he must have tricked you my sweet. I am not sure, in the name of the seven, how we are all here but do you truly think a lie as great as a hidden king in the north could be true?”

 

“Mother, I am the one who returned us to this time. I am the one who saw Jon’s parents marry. I saw Aunt Lyanna give birth to him and give him to father, begging father to protect him. I saw father lie to Robert. I saw it all and I am the one who told Jon.”

 

_Seven hells the world has gone mad!_

 

“Bran, my sweet boy, how could you have seen all of this?”

 

“I am, or rather I will be, the three eyed raven. I can see the past, the present, and threads of the future.”

 

Cat and Robb quietly stared at Bran not sure what to think. _What is a three eyed raven?_ The Kingslayer cackled. The man was thoroughly pushing on Cat’s nerves now.

 

“Oh Raven, you’re going to have to be more convincing than that to get through to your family.”

 

Bran shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Mother, we don’t have the time for this. The dead are coming and Jon is the only one who can stop them but he needs our help. He can’t be alone again, we all failed him.

 

“Mother, I know you have wished death on Jon. That he almost died as a baby from a fever. I watched you pray to bring him back but then spent the rest of his life ignoring him. You starved him when he misbehaved. You kept him away from his family, isolating him. Robb- the day Jon pummeled you in the yard, it was because you called him a bastard to his face, telling him he could never have Winterfell over you. You angered him and you were one of the first to feel what his wrath could be. You both, in your own ways, kept him from reaching his promise and so we almost lost the world.”

 

Cat was about to respond again but Robb silenced her. 

 

“Bran, tell me what happened to you.”

 

“It will take time, Robb.”

 

“We have a little over a fortnight to the Dreadfort I am sure we will find time to hear your story.”

 

So they rode to meet the bastard at the Bolton’s stronghold. Bran, in a wagon with Robb riding by his side told them such horrors that Cat would have rather stayed dead. The tales he told were. He spoke of babies dying on their mother’s breast and of men coming back to life forced to fight their brothers. The Kingslayer, also chained in the wagon, would add what he remembered from the battle field, the horrors they saw and how no strategy could keep the dead at bay. 

 

More fantastically, she heard them talk of the return of dragons, first the Dragon Queen in all of her fury and then the bastard riding a dragon named after his supposed father. How they set the fields aflame buying time for so many to head further south. She would have called it a lie had it not been for others in Robb’s army who would agree and whisper the Bastard's name in hushed and reverent tones. Manderly brought his brother up to speed, explaining their father’s role in it all, pie suddenly having a different meaning for Cat. Many in the Cerwyn forces added their voices to the tales. It was with time that she realized it all to be true. 

 

And then the dragon proved the stories to be true. 

 

A roar that she felt in her chest echoed throughout the valley as they neared the Dreadfort. Panic overcame her as she gripped the reins of her mare. Robb had to calm his stallion. Some in the army, unaccustomed to the presence of legends, fell to the ground as a dark cloud flew over them. Even more whooped and hollered with shouts of Rhaegal.

 

When Catelyn found her courage to look up she saw it, a green dragon just about larger than a horse with scales shining in the grey light. She watched as it landed on the Dreadfort’s tallest tower, making it even more foreboding. If she hadn’t believed that the boy was a secret Targaryen before, his father’s namesake made it clear that she had been confused. Targaryens and all they represented had returned. 

 

* * *

 

Catelyn hadn’t expected to find so many black brothers of the Night’s Watch to have joined the boy. _Have they all forsaken their vows for this bastard?_ Then she saw the Sun of Winter of the Karstarks and the four chains of the Umbers mixed in with Wildling furs and she realized that this was a new world indeed. _What strange bedfellows! Had the boy truly made long time enemies make peace?_

 

Then she saw him. Dressed all in black as she had expected but also not quite. There was a silver three headed dragon pin on his chest and his hair was longer than she could remember though he had always been quite vain about his hair. She looked at him for the first time with new eyes and clear understanding. _Gods be good! How could none of us know?_

 

Truly looking at the boy for what he was and not the stain on her sweet Ned’s honor, she saw what she had been blind to before. Yes, he had the Stark look- long faces and dark striking features. Yet those features on his facr were finer. His curly hair didn’t quite curl in the same way Arya’s did and his dark grey eyes had the faintest shimmer of purple in the right light. She had always assumed that had been the Dayne in him, but now she knew. 

 

She recalled the Prince from her memories, and the boy before her was his spitting image. The worried set of his brow and perpetual brooding only added to that air. He caught her eye and she froze. His look was electrifying and in that moment she tried to recall every time she had done ill by him. He looked away and Cat found she could breathe again. She sent a prayer that he was more merciful than his ancestors as she feared being the beast’s lunch.

 

The boy greeted her children one by one, clearly enjoying the moment. The love he had for them was visible but Cat couldn’t forget how Aerys had once loved Tywin like a brother. How the mad king too had once been kind and warm. _When a Targaryen is born the gods flip a coin…._

 

Bran was whispering in the boy’s ear and she watched him react to whatever it was. She was not comfortable with how close Brandon was with him. This was all madness. 

 

They were escorted to their rooms to prepare for a feast to welcome them, though Cat could not understand why the boy would waste such precious resources. If the wars were as bad as everyone made out shouldn’t they be saving every scrap? _How absurd._

 

Robb found her before dinner. He seemed unsettled. 

 

“He looks well, no?” Her son asked. _Well I wouldn’t know would I._ Her silence was enough for Robb. 

 

“I mean, he seems different. Assured. He brought such disparate groups together and even my own men feel he’s like a god. Did you know in our previous lives he died and came back to life? He-“

 

“I’ve had enough Robb. He’s a man. Like you, like your father. He’s not a god.”

 

“There’s a dragon!”

 

“Do you think he would use it against you?”

 

“Well no I -“

 

“Then he is no greater than you, in fact, he may not even be as great a fighter and tactician as you having spent his time at the wall and then spent the rest of his life on the run. He _needs you._ So, humor him. See if he still believes you are his beloved brother, but give him nothing. I trust no Targaryen.”

 

“You didn’t believe he was a Targaryen before and now you-“

 

“It is clear that Rhaegar fathered a bastard. I do not believe this second marriage would count before the Seven and so his nature remains. How can you forget your history? Targaryen bastards are the most dangerous! The wars that were fought! What if that girl were to come over!?”

 

“Mother they had been wed-“

 

“In a time when you were dead. She had no choice. I am not asking you to commit treason I am asking you to give him nothing. Just keep your options open and don’t go falling into the first girl’s lap you see.”

 

Robb had the decency to blush and then they went to dinner. 

 

At dinner she got a good look at her Robb next to the boy. Robb was every inch the King. Easy going and shining, he commanded attention. Though the boy looked like Rhaegar and now carried himself with confidence, he was quieter. He was filled with a cunning that she did not trust. Her boy radiated with light. He was a natural leader one you could easily trust. If the dragon girl were to see him would she not see it too? Then Robb wouldn’t have to fear her. Of course that could lead to a war but surely the bastard would step aside? He seemed bent on some kind of peace?

 

Cat had been lost in her head and only came back when she heard a cheer rise through the hall. The boy suddenly flashed a smile, a small one to be sure, but then she saw it. If that boy learnt to master it, he could be a true king. Robb looked apprehensive and for but a brief moment the bastard looked the king and her son a mere vassal. 

 

* * *

 

The days went by and she helped run the castle. The Boy avoided getting in her way and she was thankful. She didn’t know what she would say to him. 

 

Working with the house staff she found that the Bolton’s had not treated them with respect and had been misers. The pantry and larders were fully stocked to feed all of Winterfell and its environs through a long winter. The Bolton’s would have been able to weather through years long sieges. The small folk apparently never saw this food. Cat was sickened with the greed and avarice of Lord Bolton and was pleased that he sat in a cell. She was also pleased that the Kingslayer was also imprisoned though she knew the Bastard and the Tarly boy were working on releasing him. The boy hadn’t asked her advice but she knew that a castle lay empty and that would surely be enough for the Karstarks. 

 

Robb was frustrated and she could tell. He paced and huffed. He trained in the yard but strangely did not train with the Bastard. Catelyn observed that the boy was smart, or at least was being advised well. Of course he wouldn’t fight Robb in the yard! It would either embarrass Robb if he won, _seven hells that cannot be the case,_ or it would undermine the boy’s leadership if he lost. It was different than any other training bout he could do since Robb, of all the lords, hadn’t expressed anything or promised anything to him. She had asked him to wait and he had, finally listening to her but it was clear he didn’t understand that the boy also knew this game. 

 

“Robb, pouting like he took your favorite toy won’t get you anywhere. You have to work with what he’s giving you and find an in. You have not bent the knee publicly and he needs that…”

 

“It’s my liege lords, mother! Our home! He’s dragging his feet and not letting me know why or how! He kept me out of the Karstark's deal-“

 

_Oh, the boy did it then!_

 

“He gave them the Dreadfort! It’s sound but he could have asked! And he’s taking so long to decide what to do…”

 

“Have you spoken to him? You say he still loves you, let him prove it. If he trusts you he’ll tell you, no?”

 

“Aye, he should.”

 Robb went to leave but stopped in the doorway suddenly. 

 

“I know I sound like a child, I hear it. He’s just...he feels lost to me somehow. It would almost be easier if he was still Jon but he’s not. He’s Aegon. He confides in his Tarly friend and the Kingslayer and has little time for me. I know I can help him if he let me.”

 

“Speak to him, son.” Robb nodded and left. She had observed what Robb had mentioned. The boy carried himself differently. He had always been quiet but he was incredibly observant and cunning. She saw how he worked. Some he would cajole, others persuade. Still others he’d shame and when pushed, lightly threaten. The dragon was not for show and that’s what terrified her. She saw that he let the lords believe they were in charge but in the end he would win. She saw how he even sent his wildings away as an apparent peace offering and it should have worried her but their presence was for more upsetting than their absence. They looked like rapers and thieves and she feared them and hated their influence on little Rickon who seemed strangely drawn to them. 

 

The next day things were much changed. Robb was in good spirits and the lords had agreed to ride out. Cat begged Robb to take her, she feared the dragon would burn down her home and for some reason she had to be there to see his true nature. Robb tried to fight it but in the end he knew she would follow. They met in the middle as he begged to leave behind his siblings, worried that the Bolton Bastard would take them in the night. 

 

* * *

It was a grueling ride for two weeks, trudging through the late autumn snows. The dragon was out of sight but Catelyn could feel its presence, hovering threateningly nearby. At night the boy would wander off, likely to care for his beast. During the day her son would ride with him and she found herself almost feeling hope. Perhaps the boy would be good for Robb. Robb had been lost since they returned, weighed down by his mistakes. Riding next to the boy, he seemed more like himself.

 

The day they met Ramsay Snow it was cold and grey and Cat dreamed of a warm field in the Riverlands. War had felt less bleak then, less final. If only she had known then what lay in the wars to come. She tried to ignore the Bolton Bastard but he was a horror to behold. 

 

“Did the black bastard brother betray his vows? Oh dear, we will have to do something about that.” The boy stared back with no reaction.  It left Cat cold, how could this not bother the boy? Robb, however, fumed beside him. It was clear he would not stand for slights against any family member. 

 

“What King Robb? Not able to do your duty? Shame that you entrusted a squid to do it for you. Lady Stark! I look forward to you in my bed this evening. I simply cannot wait to taste the trout.” Ramsay licked his lips. Cat shuddered. How dare he speak like that! She knew a reaction would be bad here and prayed that Robb would not launch himself at Snow. The boy must have had the same concern and he spoke quickly but with command. 

 

“Snow, you have a choice. We can deal with this, you and I in single combat, or we can meet on the field tomorrow. You are outmanned, outflanked and alone.” Cat watched as the Bolton Bastard flinched as the boy flung bastard at him the way she had to him as a child. While impressed part of her ached now knowing what she had done to him. _Had I done this to him?_

 

“Who says I have any intention of leaving Winterfell. I am protected by the rules of parley- your Stark honor won’t let you harm me while we treat with one another. I came to take your measure, Snow, and I find it lacking. As a Bolton- because the king legitimized me in case you didn’t hear while you were fucking wildings- I am now Warden in the North. Winterfell is mine and it will remain mine.”

 

“A Bastard southern king, legitimizing a bastard? You cannot be Warden if I am King in the North.” Robb growled in return.

 

“Ah but bastard or no, good King Joffrey made me Warden, and as we know, the Warden holds Winterfell. You’re nothing but an outlaw king with a traitorous bastard brother who can’t keep vows to save his life. Pity really. The great Robb Stark is but a boy playing at war and is going to die.” The boy had had enough it seemed as he jerked his horse around. He looked back at Snow. 

 

“Snow, I assume you don’t want to get this over with through single combat?” Ramsay shook his head and opened his mouth to speak but before he could, the boy cut him off. “The cowards way, so be it. I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.” He rode off in a hurry to the command tent forcing Robb to follow him. Cat sent a quiet prayer to the gods as she followed behind. She knew her son and, though a brilliant commander, he could be as hot headed as Brandon before him. She could hear Robb cursing the whole way back.

 

“What in seven hells are you thinking, Jon?” Robb burst out as they arrived at the command tent. Cat followed behind but didn’t enter. She listened as the Kingslayer came and stood beside her, guarding the entrance. She heard the boy quietly deal with the onslaught of Robb’s anger. 

 

“Ramsay will attempt to attack us tonight. He knows we have the numbers. He‘ll try to play dirty. That’s when we’ll be waiting for him. Discreetly alert the men to not sleep tonight, but feign sleep. When Ramsay comes we’ll be waiting for him. We must give off the air that we’re preparing for battle tomorrow but when he sneaks on us, we’ll all rise.” Cat heard silence, assuming that Robb, a brilliant tactician in his own right was going through the flaws.

 

“You know for sure he will attack at night?”

 

“As sure as there’s snow in the north.” _Why is he so certain? How does he know?_

 

“Fine, I’ll work with you to tell the lords. Then we’ll go about preparing for battle.”

 

Robb stormed out and before she followed him, she caught a look at the boy King who looked older than his years as the tent flapped shut. 

 

“He is so often alone.” The Kingslayer offered next to her. “Your son can be good for him, he needs the challenge and the support.”

 

Cat had nothing to say but turned on her heel and followed after Robb. 

 

That night they sat around the fire. Cat sat herself off to the side busying herself with sewing as the men nervously pretended to prepare for battle. She almost wished they would actually drink just so she could feel less anxious. 

 

She was lost in her mind when she heard the revelry that the troops were having. What had been a set-up to trick the Bolton Bastard had turned to actual merriment.

 

“Jon- sing for us!” A man with the Manderly merman called to him. A rousing chorus of pleas joined in. In her previous life, she had never heard him sing though she wasn’t surprised that he likely could. With every passing day she thanked the gods he was not born with silver hair.  As a bastard no one would pay attention to him and though she was finding herself more and more willing to deal with the fact that Ned lied, she felt relieved that her own ignorance served as a shield in some way. She heard Robb call out-

 

“Jon can’t sing! He’s never sung in his life” and Robb started laughing raucously. _Oh sweet Robb! So like your uncle Brandon you are at times._ She was sure that the son took after the father and Robb just wasn’t ready to see his former brother as what he really was. 

 

“His grace can and does sing.” Jaime offered quietly.

 

“Go ahead then! Sing!” Robb laughed. Cat wanted to get up before she would have to witness her son be embarrassed. A call for Jenny’s Song came from the back. _Anything but that please._ Rhaegar had sang that in her father’s hall when she was a girl. He played it at the tourney where the boy’s mother cried. If his son sang the same song she would surely break and it would not do to break the night before battle. 

 

She had never been more thankful than when the boy smiled one of his rare and blinding smiles and offered, “Perhaps something a bit more fun?” 

 

“ _The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,_

_and her kisses were warmer than spring._

_But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,_

_and its kiss was a terrible thing…._

 

As she expected his voice was an echo of a past she would rather forget. The rage that coursed through her was not for the boy but for Ned. The fury at having believed she was shamed all these years.  How she had sinned so against a true born child. No wonder they were cursed! She had failed her gods and abused an innocent child. Granted that child was the cause of a war and would have meant death to her family but a child! She removed herself before the final bawdy chorus and off into the night it seemed like Rhaegar sang with a joy he never had in life 

 

“ _But what does it matter for all men must die, and I’ve tasted the Dornishman’s wife.”_

 

It was past the hour of the Wolf when she heard the fire wolves growl and howl. She grabbed a small dagger she had taken to holding when the Tarly boy and Ser Alliser found her. They had agreed to escort her to safety far from the fight. 

 

On top of a hill she watched the battle begin in earnest. She lost track of her son as he entered the fray, brilliantly living up to his name of the Young Wolf. The White Wolf as the others called the boy could be seen fighting just as furiously. Time seemed to slow and speed up all at once, like Arya rushing to leave her sewing lessons. Cat lost track of time. Ser Alliser had joined the fighting and she was left with young Ned Umber and Samwell Tarly.  She feared she could not see what was happening and Winterfell would be further destroyed but the light broke and she saw her home. Winterfell in all its majesty, had she known she would leave it in life and never return she would have locked the doors and kept them all home. Her heart Soares with relief and joy to see it. 

 

Then the dragon roared.

 

All the hope evaporated with the realization that even under friendly fire, her home could be ash. She began to race towards the fighting, shoutingt at Jon to stop. She needed to stop him from burning Winterfell. Later, she would be asked what overcame her as she galloped unladylike into the fray, Tarly trailing behind her. All she could see was her home in flames. Her worst nightmare come true.

 

To add insult to injury she saw the wildings pouring out of her home as well. _They know how to get in! They will surely sack us all, woe to us for trusting a Targaryen bastard. How could we believe him? A monster from my own home!_

 

She would later claim that in that moment she couldn’t quite understand what was happening and she feared the wildings, she had only ever heard about their savage and cannibalistic ways. How could they be trusted? Why would they bother to listen to a bastard king? Cat thought then that their home was lost. That is what lead her to think about treason, though she would not call it so. 

 

“You gave the keys to the north to Wildling heathens?” she shrieked. Her fear truly over taking her. _Dragons in my home!_ “You power hungry bastard! You wanted Winterfell for yourself! You are a wildling lover, a liar, no true born son would allow heathens into their home like this-”

 

“Lady Stark, they follow the same gods as your son. I tolerate you for the love I have for your son but-“

 

That was far too much for her. If he loves him why threaten his home?

 

“LOVE FOR MY SON? If you loved him as much as you loved these Wildings I would believe you but you are a weak, power hungry creature, no better than them.”

 

She was shocked to see so few lords join her in her righteous indignation. So many set their faces in a mix of disgust and pity at Lady Catelyn’s claims. She couldn’t understand- could they not see what a danger a dragon left unchecked was? How they would cower under their yoke? How freedoms they had enjoyed would be destroyed. The dragon queen was supposed to be worse than the boy, how could they not see? She looked at Robb. Wordlessly begged him to support her. 

 

Ever the tactician, Robb’s face was unreadable. Frozen in with rage and confusion but clearly measuring his best response. .

 

Silence echoed throughout until Ramsay Snows’s laugh rant high and clear. “Is this to be believed? Is Jon Snow truly the bastard and is taking the throne from his brother. This is delicious, I for one welcome the change and the betrayal.”

 

A Manderly guard who had approached him during the time struck him down.

 

“That is King Aegon the Sixth of his name to you. You will show respect.” The beast roared out as it landed on one of Winterfell’s towers, the faint crumbling sound broke her again. 

 

“He is no king!” Catelyn couldn’t handle it, her home. _Their homes! Why can’t they see?_ “A wildling loving bastard, he’s trying to steal. My son’s birthright he’s…”

 

Something changed in the boy. He had seemed tired from battle, almost weary, but now he was aflame. Cat trembled at his fury. 

 

“Aye, I’m a wildling lover. Aye, I approach things with the single mindedness and thirst that you all attribute to bastards. Yes, I am ruthless, but not without reason. Ned- did I show the children of traitors mercy? Did I not give you an opportunity to redeem yourself?”

 

“Yes, your grace.” squeaked the young Umber boy who appeared to be no more than 8 or 9 name days and really should have been nowhere near this battle. Why did he let him come?

 

“Samwell, did I not execute those who committed treason when I was Lord Commander?”

 

“Yes, your grace” Sam stammered. Cat could not fathom what he was doing. 

 

“You all know me. Many know me only as the Bastard of Winterfell, the sole stain on Lord Eddard Stark’s honor. Some of you may know me as the 998th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. The Lord Commander who let the Wildlings through. Many of you may know me as the King in the North…” he paused and looked pointedly at Robb and Cat. This unsettled her. They had lost the game they had been playing. He would force their hands. She shook in fear. Trembling, she would likely be executed for treason now, but any sane person would understand. The dragon- it could burn anyone! 

 

She had been in her head when she noticed some kneeling before the Targaryen King. Jon was truly Aegon the Conqueror reborn. How they could have missed it truly she would never know. 

 

“Lady Stark, I understand the stresses of battle can be overwhelming. I believe that the battle has tired you out and caused stress, no?” She wanted to snap at him but knew he was giving her an out. _Why?_

 

“Your grace, I fear you are right.”

 

“Allow Samwell to escort you to your quarters. Robb can take the Lord’s rooms, I’ll stay in the guest’s quarters.” 

 

She was confused. Why would he not take the Lord’s rooms for himself?

 

“My lords- today Winterfell. Tomorrow, the seven kingdoms. Let us rest today, tomorrow we will have judgement and we’ll begin our work in earnest.”

 

The clanging of shields overwhelmed Cat as she was lead by the Tarly boy to her old life and rooms. 

____________________________________________

That night Cat found herself alone in her room. Though it had been made clear that she was welcomed at the feast she preferred to hide in the warmth of her chambers. The very same ones she had shared with Eddard all those years. She was furious still. Absolutely furious. Furious about the dragon on her roof, the dragon in her home, and the lies told her whole life. The treason she had committed hung over her. The boy was in his rights to take her head. He was! She didn’t deserve mercy and it would be foolish if she went unpunished. He also clearly had no love for her. 

 

The way the lords had looked at her. It would haunt her forever. 

 

A soft knock at the door roused her from her misery. Robb entered shyly after she opened the door. 

 

“Mother, I thought we had a plan? Committing treason like that will get us nowhere and your outburst forced our hand.”

 

“I know, son. That monster in the air and the wildlings pouring from our home, it...it.. it made me feel untethered. The boy, what will he do to me?”

 

“To be quite honest I don’t know.” Robb had sat by the fire. Head in hands he sighed. “He feels so foreign to me, this Jon. I am happy but I am also lost. He gave us our home back but the way I needed him before, he simply does not need me.”

 

“No, he does.” Cat recalled Jaime Lannister’s words. “He has no one his age who has shared this burden before. You can be of value to him, you can help him. I...I do not know what I will do, but I see now we are truly lost. Now you must protect the family.” She grabbed his hand reassuringly.

 

Robb looked at her with a sadness she didn’t expect. “I see now how hard this is for you. Father lied to you. Have you considered that he lied to Jon as well?”

 

“That boy should be thankful that he was given so much protection!”

 

“Mother, I know you are struggling with this, and I can’t help but struggle as well.  However, perhaps, just perhaps, Jon might have some idea of what you feel. You want me to work with him, but I cannot if you two are at odds. Please speak with him.”

 

Cat said nothing but looked away. Robb took that as a sign to leave, but he must have said something because not too much later a soft knock announced the boy’s presence. 

 

“Lady Stark, my apologies for bothering at this time.” She gave a very unladylike snort and then controlled herself. He could burn her at any point, what was she doing.

“It is no bother, your grace.” There was more heat in how she said his title than she intended but it did not seem to bother him. 

 

“Truly, my apologies, I would like to show you something if you don’t mind coming with me.” He looked truly apologetic but also there was an edge to him that was unreadable. He must have read her silence as anxiety as he offered her some form of safety, “I promise to keep you safe, I just believe we are do for a talk and I have some things I need to show you.” In that moment he looked so like Ned on their wedding night, anxious in the doorway, begging her permission. Those Stark features and the earnestness they promised were always her undoing. She found herself wondering if she had ever looked at the boy, truly. She nodded and followed along. 

 

They walked through the keep in awkward silence. 

"How did you know that Ramsay Snow would strike at Night?" She finally ventured. The boy shifted uncomfortably. 

"He had done it before, destroying Stannis. Also, it's what I would have done if I was him." Cat sat in silence at this admission.  _Did he have no honor?_ _Or is there no honor in war?_ She knew this of course, that honor did not win wars. Perhaps they would actually survive this time if someone was willing to play a little underhanded. They continued walking, the past stifling any chance of open communication.

“I cannot imagine what seeing your home over run must have felt like.”

“No, I believe there are a great many things you cannot imagine.”

The boy sighed, and started again.

“Lady Stark, I have no intentions of taking Winterfell from the Starks. It was my home, but we have other causes to worry about.”

“Oh I know you want that iron throne.”

“The Other’s take the the iron throne, I just want peace in this realm and we will not have it. Lady Stark, I do not expect us to be warm or even vaguely cordial. I know our history-”

“Your grace,” Catelyn realized he had been struggling to find common ground and she had been cold. She could play the game and be more than cordial, “Lord Stark deceived us both. It will take time for us both to come to terms with our history. I cannot say I am sorry for my outburst though I appreciate how you tried to protect me for the sake of Robb. To see my home overrun so- it was terrifying. Even with the best of intentions- I know you felt it was necessary but some warning would have helped- and at what cost?”

 

She found that they had walked to the dungeons. _Is he going to lock me in?_

  
  


“At what cost?” he echoed quietly. He gestured towards a body in a cell. Glowing blue eyes stared back scrambling for the gate. “Our humanity.”

 

* * *

 

After seeing the wight in person, Cat understood. It all fell into place and she suddenly had respect for Jon. The threat was greater than any petty grievance she could have. The game of thrones was a useless endeavor if there was no realm to rule. 

 

At the feast Cat had not attended, the other lords witnessed the wights that the Night’s Watch had found and that the Wildlings had brought as prisoners. Jon was wise to win back Winterfell and then show the lords the true threat. A victory earned fealty, this threat earned loyalty. Who wouldn’t want a dragon or three between themselves and complete devastation?

 

Cat knew that both Robb and Jon needed her, especially to deal with Lady Barbrey, who continued to hold a grudge against the Starks. As she watched Jon deliver Northern justice to Ramsay Snow and some of his followers who wouldn’t bend the knee, she finally understood what Jaime had said. Jon was a good leader, he recognized his many, many weaknesses and wasn’t too proud to seek help. 

 

In the days that followed they fell into a steady rhythm of planning as a small council of sorts took shape. Robb acted almost like a Hand, with Jaime and Thorne providing valuable military insights. Lord Manderly, Lord Umber, Lady Mormont and some other lords circled around the map. Many who could remember the future and others who feared it joined as necessary. While their relationship was not perfect, her and the King had found a working relationship and her son finally had his brother back.

One day, they were at an impasse with next steps. They had finally agreed that they would send troops to man the Wall, under the command of the Umbers and Jorah Mormont, as long as he remained at the Wall. They knew there was some time before the threat would arrive but they would not be caught unaware this time. They had to prepare the wall, freeze the tunnels, and evacuate more of the Freefolk. They needed to secure the Seven kingdoms as well. They needed to stockpile food and mine for Dragonglass. They needed to know who else remembered. Some ravens had arrived from houses throughout the kingdoms pledging to follow King Aegon, but no Lord Paramount had written yet. They had no word of King’s Landing or the Westerlands or Stormlands. Interestingly, Dorne had also been silent save a single raven from Oberyn Martell that threatened his imminent arrival. 

 

All of the Reach was in King’s Landing and Jon was preparing for the worst. 

 

“We need the Vale.” He said quietly, staring at the map. There were days he looked like his father and days that he could have been Ned reborn. Today the worry that weighed him down had him looking older than his young years, he looked even thinner almost, despite the constant training he was putting himself through.

“Do we though?” asked Lord Cerwyn. Cat felt he was missing the point, yes they hadn’t taken severe losses and the North was hard to take from the South but it was not enough. They would need food, they would need steel, they needed allies to take and hold Dragonstone. 

“Of course we do- the knights are fresh and between the Riverlands, the Vale and the North not to mention the Dragon, the other four kingdoms will and should bend,” Cat added. She looked at her brother and uncle who had joined them again. They had been sent to treat with Lysa prior to arriving at the Dreadfort but had arrived not too long after they had retaken Winterfell. Lysa had remained unmoved. 

 

“I don’t know Cat,” added the Blackfish, “Lysa is as lost as ever. She would not even let me through the gates! Me who had done nothing but care for her and Sweetrobin! What are we to do?”

 

“I could fly there.” Offered Jon. Cat looked at the King. There were moments he seemed lighter, having someone to work with and think through things seemed to lift his spirits even though he was tired. Having the realm believe him bit by bit, relieved him. Had Robb ever seemed so worn? Jon was wearing his house’s colors that day and with less of the world on him alone, she could see the leader peak through. _What would he be like on that dragon? What kind of man would he be?_  “Like Visenya and Ronnel Arryn- perhaps Lord Robert Arryn remembers? Maybe the other lords of the Vale?” He continued.  

 

“He does not and his mother controls everything, your Grace.” Ser Brynden offered. “As a knight of the gate, I wasn’t even allowed in.” Cat was thankful her uncle was here but deeply frustrated with her sister. Her sister had proven in both timelines that she was incapable of doing anything other than retreat.

 

Though Jon had a point, if they could get in, they could . “Your Grace” it still pained Cat to say that but so be it, “Is the dragon rideable? Can it be done?” Until now she had only seen the dragons as weapons and not the tools they could be. Travel could be so quick. Communication so much easier. Oh the possibilities!

 

“Rhaegal is still on the smaller side so we wouldn’t be able to go as far as fast but it is definitely a shorter ride, if he will have me.”

 

“If?”

 

“Dragons are not horses, Lady Stark. They are loyal but are not beasts.” _Others take Targaryens!_  

 

“Assuming it will let you, then, possible?”

 

“Yes, though I wish we could confer with Bran before moving forward…” A servant entered and whispered in the King’s ear. Brandon and Rickon were traveling from the Dreadfort to Winterfell under the protection of Howland Reed’s men, it would take time for them to arrive and likely time they didn’t have. Her son’s strange power was beyond her comprehension but the lords and ladies in the room placed a great deal of importance to it. The world was upside down and she was just here for survival.

 

“That will be enough for today.” the King announced suddenly. The others filed out but Jon kept her and Robb behind. “We have guests.” _What guests could they have that were so sensitive?_

 

Catelyn couldn’t handle anymore secrets, she needed this over with. They returned to the lord’s solar where Jon’s valet had apparently lead these secret guests. In the room there sat a young Northern girl with cropped hair covered in dirt, a boy who looked disconcertingly like Robert Baratheon, and ….

 

“Petyr?” Catelyn could not believe her eyes. The man who had been responsible for her family’s downfall. Why Ned was dead. He stood before her worse for wear, bedraggled, muddied, and bound.

 

“MOTHER!” The young lady ran to her and she finally realized who this Northern beauty was. This was her wild Arya, so much older than she had seen her last. Taller and even with her short hair far more a lady than she had been. 

 

“Arya, oh my girl, my heart, you’re alive. Let me look at you!” Gripping Arya's face in her hand, she had to concede that Lyanna Stark stood before her alive again. Arya had grown into her looks and when her hair was long again, no one would be able to tell the difference between her and her aunt. No wonder Jon was able to hide in plain sight when her own daughter so clearly matched him. Though where he was tall and reed like, she was built small and strong, clearly raised on survival. 

 

Looking at her she was faced again with the folly in her choices from her previous life. She had missed her small girl grow up. Arya caught sight of her brothers behind her mother and flung her arms around them both, with the ghost of Robert looking somewhat uncomfortable at the reunion. Breaking from his sister's hold Jon approached the man and exchanged words making the boy seem more at ease. Happy meetings aside, Cat had to understand what was happening.

 

“What is going on, how did you find Petyr? Why did you bring him?”

 

Arya smiled but it did not reach her eyes. It was a cold smile. A murderous smile. “I brought Jon a coronation present.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a reminder that I am unbeta'd and while I do my best to throughly research and reread portions of the books before posting, things do slip through. I feel like we're all collaborative here so please keep me honest and on my toes!


	11. Dany II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dany and friends journey west

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mix of show and book.

The heat beat down on Daenerys Targaryen as she rode with Barristan Selmy to Mereen. For the first time in her memory she found that she despised the heat. The heat was the constant reminder of how far she had to go to return to Jon, her family, and her home. She had to leave Essos as quickly as possible and this meant having to make choices she would have rather not had to make. She would be forced to bypass Yunkai. It was an unnecessary stop and she had to get to Mereen to find ships and go west. She knew she could not rule over the Bay of Dragons, she had a responsibility to Westeros. She had arrived too late in her previous life. So many men had died in pointless and endless wars. Food had been wasted, the people had suffered, and the entire country had been destroyed. It had been almost too easy for the White Walkers to trample over them because of this. The dragon in her roared in anger at the memory of dying in the cold. _I cannot look back._

 

When they had left Astapor many Unsullied chose to remain behind. Daenerys had accepted this. She would not sacrifice them again and she would let them choose their own path. Now that they knew what lay in wait they could make the right decision for themselves. Her Unsullied were not meant to battle in winter. Even armed with that knowledge, Grey Worm and five thousand Unsullied freely marched behind her. Not quite the full eight thousand she had once had, but the most loyal men she would ever have. She hoped that she and Jon could unite Westeros under the Targaryen Banner.  An army of foreigners had done her no good previously and she could not, in good conscience force the Unsullied to fight the oncoming battle alone.

 

Daenerys soon found that she needn't have worried. As Essos awoke again, those loyal to her found their way back to her. Though they had bypassed Yunkai, Daario Naharis had found her caravan. Like before, he threw the heads of Prendahl na Ghezn and Sallor, his fellow captains, at her feet and pledged the Stormcrows to her service. Several hundred Dothraki rode to her from Vaes Dothrak and pledged themselves to her. Rakharo reported that many had refused to come because of the witchcraft they blamed on their return but those who had seen what the world would become, had chosen to follow her. Among them was Khal Jhaqo who had mocked her in her previous life. He knelt down at her feet tossing his cut braid on the floor, as Daario, Ser Barristan and her blood riders looked on. Grey Worm lurked just outside. In Dothraki, Jhaqo offered her his hoard.

 

“Khaleesi, you are the stallion that mounts the world. You are the stallion that controls time. My past I cannot change but this future I will.” 

 

Magnanimously, she nodded and allowed him to enter into her ranks. She would watch him closely for now. The same way she was watching Daario, close enough to observe, far enough for safety. Remembering his past tricks she had tripled her guard around her and slept with a knife under her pillow as Arya had taught her. She would not be taken unawares.

 

As they arrived near the walls of Mereen, Hizdahr zo Loraq and a small group made up of the old families plus Xaro Xhoan Daxos from Qarth greeted her in front of the closed gates.

 

“Lovely wife!” Of course Hizdahr remembered. _Bran could you not have been more careful? It will take me so much longer to get home if I have to deal with these inconsequential men at every turn._

 

“We are not married Hizdahr and, if I recall correctly, I do believe you tried to kill me?” Daenerys raised an eyebrow as Viserion and Drogon landed heavily next to her, causing Hizdahr, Xaro and the others to take a step back. The dragons had grown at a faster pace and were now so much larger than they had been when she had first arrived in Mereen. Dany had finally learned how to care for her dragons and she would never let them be caged again.

 

“The city has changed even without you. Mereen does not need you nor does she want you.” Hizdahr stammered.

 

“My offer from our previous life stands lovely girl.” Xaro Xhoan Daxos added. “Thirteen ships from myself and gold if you leave us be.”

 

“There are also ships from Westeros waiting for you here, your Grace.” Skahaz mo Kandaq, the Shavepate, offered.

 

Dany knew that to invade Mereen and free the slaves would delay her. She had learned that in the end all she could do was delay the inevitable in Mereen and she knew the true enemy now. The true enemy would come for them all. What Daenerys also knew was that Astapor had truly freed itself this time, the Unsullied stayed to rule themselves. With one of the great Slave cities down, it would only be a matter of time before the others caved. Mereen had always been a keg of wildfire, dangerously close to explode and she did not need to be there to light it.

 

“Ships for me you say? From where? What sigils are on their sails?”

 

“A Golden Sun with a spear through it?” Offered a nameless and faceless Ghiscari noble. _Oh a_ _Martell ship? Quentyn? Arianne?_

 

Hizdahr saw her face. “Please come in as our guest. If you promise not to attempt to be Queen of Mereen we will offer you cover, ships, and safe passage to Westeros.”

 

Drogon approached Hizdahr slowly and sniffed him. Daenerys could see Hizdahr tremble but try to hold firm. The stench of human piss attacked her nostrils. 

 

“Of course, with the respect that a Queen demands. We’ve changed because of you we swear, while the fighting pits remain open we’ve freed slaves, come see for yourself!” He added hastily. as Drogon growled, “Of course we promise your safety as well!”

 

Daenerys, always suspicious, turned to confer with Daario and Barristan. They both gave her imperceptible shrugs. With a Westerosi fleet waiting on her and two dragons under her control fully, not to mention the army of Unsullied, Dothraki and Second Sons behind her they faced little challenge. She also couldn’t use her same trick twice of sneaking in through the sewers at night. She knew better and she would not light the match to watch the city burn. She was a dragon who had a duty across the sea. 

 

“If I agree to your terms, here our mine- I will hold court. I will speak with the freed slaves. I will stay in the Great Pyramid, my dragons will have free reign. You will give me gold and the ships and I will be gone in a fortnight. If the Westerosi ships prove to be a danger, I will provide protection if need be and you will shelter me for a fortnight if need be. Agreed?”

 

The assembled agreed too quickly and Dany realized she likely could have even asked for their first borns and they would have handed them to her if it meant she did not tarry too long. _Well, it seems I was never going to be welcomed with open arms here._  

 

With a clasping of hands and a Westerosi exchange of bread and salt for good measure, she marched into the walls of Mereen, not as a conqueror but as a guest.

 

_______________

 

The Martell ships happened to be a present from Quentyn who had awoken and remembered. He did not come this time, likely to avoid the sight of a dragon, and expressed his greatest regrets. By way of an apology, he sent Myrcella Baratheon and his younger brother Trystane. _A hostage present! Oh cousins you do surprise!_ Myrcella would prove valuable in the fight against Cersei. Trystane apparently was stupidly in love with her still, and Myrcella, the poor child, remembered her past. Having been scarred by the Darkstar, Gerold Dayne, she had never been the same. She trusted no one and was bitter and sad. In her previous life, she had died from poisoning. The likely culprit was Nymeria Sand who wanted to hurt Cersei for the death of her father, Oberyn. This Myrcella knew who her real father was and knew that her mother was unhinged. She was compliant and willing to be there but Dany knew she represented a danger nonetheless. She could be lying to them all or she could be a spy. The people could rally around her to put her on the throne or find a way to Dany through her. They could do any countless number of things. She would have to be heavily guarded from now on. It almost broke Dany’s heart to see how the young girl flung herself into Barristan’s arms, knowing that he would likely guard her in a very different way now, less like a father and more like a ward. 

 

Along with Quentyn and Myrcella, Prince Doran had sent a letter to Daenerys, thanking her for second chances at revenge. He pledged Dorne’s support to her and Lyanna’s son. She could not begin to guess how they knew about Jon as most of Dorne had barricaded themselves against the dead before she died. Her best guess was perhaps Sarella, Oberyn’s daughter, who had been in Oldtown all along. Sarella likely had enough sense to keep Dorne abreast of what was occurring. 

 

Doran offered her the ships as an offering as well. They were meant to carry her and her troops to Dragonstone. The ships were not to engage in battle so as Dorne would look to still be on the side of the Lannisters. In exchange, Dany was to house Myrcella and Trystane. These were incredibly smart moves on Doran’s part as they freed him of liability and Trystane was but a second son. If he died, so be it, and it would give Doran cause to rebel. It also offered an apology for Quentyn having been a fool in the past. It almost felt too good to be true, though she knew Dragonstone was likely still manned by Stannis at this time. It was a poisoned chalice in a way, a challenge set by the Martells. One she needed timed to consider.

 

She would also have to consider what to do with Mereen. She had to leave it, she knew this. She couldn’t rule Mereen and take the Seven Kingdoms. Nor did she want to be a foreign queen in either country. She now had a home and a family waiting. Staring out over Mereen from the Great Pyramid, she sighed. This had once felt like home and now it weighed her down. She lamented how different she was now, where before she would have not thought twice about staying, sure in her conviction to free the world as an avenging angel, now she knew what she had returned to do. She understood her hubris from her previous life. It vexed her to no end, but the fire that was her own dragon inside roared. The dragon had been forced to wear rabbit ears in Mereen, forced to be silent. She had tried to tame it in Mereen the first time, but she knew better. She had a mission, one she had to live through in order to change the world. She cursed Jon lightly for afflicting her with his own brooding nature and suffocating sense of duty. Mereen would always have a place in her heart but she could not get tied down here again, she had a home across the sea. 

 

____________________

 

It was only a matter of time before Daario’s true intentions were laid bare. He had not come to her in their travels to Mereen. He had avoided her tent. She did not know what he had experienced when she left Mereen in his hands, but she knew he still wanted her. Barristan no longer worried about her love for him being a distraction as in the end she had learned it was nothing but lust and she had found Jon. The old knight knew that this partnership was different and that the queen would not be fooled again. Though outwardly she was but a 16 year old girl, she herself was a seasoned fighter, weary and ready for those who would try to deceive her. This was made abundantly clear when she found him waiting with wildflowers in her chamber. 

 

“Come to bed the Dragon once more, Naharis?” Dany asked archly. The girl who had fallen for the blue bearded man felt like 100 lifetimes ago. In her mind if not her body she had been thrice wed and a mother twice, even if both babes hadn’t lived to see a year. She was weighed down by futures passed and had no time for cheap theatrics. 

 

“As I had said to you once before, My sword is yours. My life is yours. My love is yours. My blood, my body, my songs, you own them all. I live and die at your command, fair queen.” Daario came closer to her. “Though I fear you don’t need my love anymore?” Closer he stepped. Oh he was good, a gallant monster as ever. Jon had never claimed that he lived and died at her command, but she knew he would die for her without him saying it. That was the difference between him and this false man before her. 

 

“Oh, sweet Daario. I fear that you will just have to take comfort that in another time and another place, you bedded a young girl who thought herself a Dragon.”

 

“And now? Are you not the very same young girl who is a Dragon? With the same needs and wants?” Another step, too close this time. Almost within striking distance. Dany glanced past him towards the balcony. 

 

“In appearances I may yet seem the young, untested girl. But beneath I am very much the Dragon Queen still and unfortunately for you, I now know what it is like to lay with a true Dragon.”

 

“Oh how dreary. I’ve heard the tales- you met the cold northerner who happened to be some secret kin. The stuff of children’s tales, what next, ice monsters?”

 

“Daario, we have returned is that not enough proof that the world is upturned?”

 

“You left me here to rot.” He turned very dark, all pretenses gone. 

 

“I left you in charge!”

 

“You left me in jail! There was nothing I could do? Who am I to run this godforsaken city? In the end they dragged me from my bed and murdered me in my sleep while you were bedding your own so called dragon. That was not the end for Daario Naharis!”

 

“Then why come back at all?”

 

“To see for myself what had become of my Dragon just to see her declawed! I see one less dragon already, where is he!? Does this other man have so much power over you?”

 

Silently, Viserion had landed behind Darrio. He froze when he felt the heat behind him. Drogon landed heavily next to Dany. _Almost there, my sweet. Almost ready to fly with me._ “You have overstepped, Captain. You are my captain, do not think that the liberties you once had to speak so freely continue. I am a queen, and you, sir, are no king. I will give you the opportunity to show me your loyalty. If you cannot? Well.” She turned to Drogon, turning her back on Daario to show how confident she was. “We will see how declawed this dragon is. You are dismissed.” Daario tripped over himself on the way out but Dany called him back.

 

“Oh and Daario, you will be traveling to Westeros with me. You will serve under my husband’s command and you will see WHY I never came back. You will wish that I had left you in your jail.” Viserion growled and Daario scurried out leaving the Dragon Queen alone with her children.

 

______________________

 

The next day, Dany prepared herself for court so she could speak with the freedmen to be sure they were and would be fine. Without Missandei she felt lost and alone. She had Irri and Jhiqui but it was not the same. They were more somber as well and didn’t even joke with Rakharo as they had once. Staring at herself in the mirror, Dany thanked all the gods that she didn’t have to wear her floppy ears. She looked lovely to be sure in her striking lavender dress but also felt exposed. Previously, she had started to use her clothes as an armour of sorts, having learned from Sansa the power of perception. Formal black and red for courts, pants for war and war councils in somber grays and blacks, softer colors and fabrics for family.This lavender dress, though lovely, left her open and bare. Perhaps Jon’s paranoia had invaded her own self. Daggers in the dark had haunted him and now they haunted her. She had added daggers to her own bodice, securing them in case of emergency.

 

She also felt too young again. She had always felt sure in herself, until she arrived in Westeros. She learned the hard way that she was far from perfect. Her council had always shielded her from the worst of the world, exactly because she looked like a girl. Jon had not.The sullen King in the North had always been gruff and to the point. The dead are coming. We are all going to die. We need the dragons. It had all been so tediously repetitive. On a less comely man it would have been annoying, Dany giggled. Irri jerked her head up. The sound so unlike the somber mood they had all been living.

 

“Khaleesi, I do not think I have heard you laugh since we returned!” Jhiqui nodded her agreement with Irri. 

 

“I was thinking of the King and how we first met.” Knowing smiles came across her handmaidens’ faces. They had been there when she had first fallen in love, when they were married, when she was pregnant and when she lost her boy. They were there through the coldest moments until they were not. When she said the King they saw her glow.

 

“The Khal of Khals is certainly a man to not laugh at!” giggled Jhiqui.

 

“That is why you denied Daario Naharis is it not?” added Irri. Dany hissed at them. “Are my secrets so public you two can make light of them?” They were chastised but then they all fell into bouts of giggles. It felt good, to not only look like the girl she was, but also act like it for once.  

 

She entered into the great marbled hall. The court was much as she had remembered it. The Ghiscari nobles to one side, the people the other. Many came before her endlessly, telling them that things had changed. A council had been created before she had arrived. These councils were mixed of slaves and masters and all would work together for the good of the city. Slaves could work to free themselves, though having looked at one of the contracts it would take some their whole lives. 

 

The fighting pits continued existence was promised as she knew how much they mattered to the people. In their previous life she had made that concession and that concession would stand. Things had felt so similar Dany began to waver. To realize that maybe, she had missed her life here as the conquering, all powerful queen. Then, Hazzea arrived. The little girl Drogon had killed before she knew how to connect with him. She remembered being broken that she could not recall the child's name, she had been so sad and had wanted to cry but in that time, all her tears had been burned away. The goatherd brought his young daughter, to remind Dany of the price of her power. How she had a responsibility to little children everywhere. Even as she explained that the dragons were better now, she knew she could not stay here. The dragons would always be a threat.

 

_____

Her fortnight was coming to an end quickly. Through it all, Dany continued to hold court, negotiate with the council to at least consider being somewhat lenient with those who wanted freedom. She worked on furthering democratizing the fighting pits. She also spent time in the gardens with Myrcella and Trystane, getting to know them. They both felt incomprehensibly young to her, though they were just a few years younger in truth. Tyrstane whined about almost everything; from being in Mereen to the lack of good wine. A younger son, he had never had a want for anything or any pressure to succeed. Quentyn had been the emissary and Arianne the heir. Trystane was young and dumb and spoiled. He even greedily ate the little cakes as they sat in the garden like a child. 

 

Myrcella, with her sad green eyes and pretty porcelain features reminded Dany much of the Old Lion, her father. Dany realized with a start that Jaime was not old now, likely in the prime of his life and with both hands. She sent a silent prayer that he had found his way to Jon. Giving the young girl an indulgent smile as she sipped her iced milk, she tried her best to reach out and give comfort to the young girl.

 

“I know your father.”

 

Trystane started, “That fat oaf! He-“

 

“No, your highness, her true father.” Myrcella looked at her with apprehension. A caged lioness raised in fear was more liable to lash out, Dany reminded herself. She continued. “He is a good man for all his faults. He saved the realm, you know. More than once.”

 

“But he killed your father. And threw Brandon Stark from a window. He did so many despicable things-“ she was so quiet. She picked at some of the spiced fruit that sat before her. For a Westorosi, the spiced fruit, it’s deceptive heat and sweetness, could be off putting. 

 

“Myrcella, your father killed mine because my father put the realm at risk. He had the courage to do the right thing and not follow orders. Sometimes, blind obedience to a liege lord can do worse damage to the realm.”

 

“Your grace, what you speak of, many rulers consider treason.” Myrcella eyed her suspiciously.

 

“You are correct, and I am not saying that all dissension is noble. There are moments where we must think of the greater good. Your father did that at great personal risk to himself and his family. If my brother Rhaegar had won, Ser Jaime likely would have been dismissed from the Kingsguard and sent home, but not killed. It was a noble act.”

 

“But with Bran-”

 

“Bran has forgiven him, and we cannot formally bring him to a trial if Bran does not ask for it. Ser Jaime has felt something like guilt and remorse, but he is single minded in his defense of his family. We are all guilty of loving a little too much.”

 

Myrcella looked down clearly thinking things over then looked up. Her green eyes stared back at pale violet ones. “Will you kill me?”

 

Trystane began to loudly object, but Dany silenced him. “Will I have to?”

 

“For the greater good, would you sacrifice me?”

 

“I don’t hurt children.”

 

“You don’t? I heard about Hazzea. The little girl your dragon killed.”

 

“She is not dead now.”

 

“No. But she had died. And your allies poisoned me”

 

“Myrcella, I am not Tywin Lannister who bashes innocent children against walls because of the threat they might pose. I am not Robert Baratheon who sends assassins across the Narrow Sea to slice a baby from its mother’s womb. I was not responsible for your death, I was a world away.”

 

“You inspired it.” The heat with which Myrcella spat at Dany rivaled any dragon.

 

Dany stood up, “You’re young still. You are very pretty with a good family so you will inspire many things. You will understand that the things people do for you, to win your affection and your admiration, will be out of your control. The things people do for love- familial, romantic or otherwise, can be great and can be terrifying. Myrcella, I do not know you well and it pains me you suffered in Dorne, but _I do not hurt innocents_.”

 

“But I am your hostage no?” Myrcella was lucky they were in private. They both knew she played the meek cub in front of an audience but here, alone in the gardens with just Trystane and Dany, she was bolder. Dany had to stop this before she grew confident in her boldness.

 

“Yes, and be grateful you are my hostage and not your mother’s, for you would surely be lost.” With that she robbed Myrcella of any retort, for they both knew that Cersei was cruel beyond doubt and had treated Lady Sansa without any mercy. They both knew that Queen Margaery was thrown in prison for no reason. Myrcella could recall how many went missing. Dany strode confidently out of the garden leaving the two of them slack jawed behind her. Lions may not care about the opinions of sheep, but they should certainly be wary of dragons. 

 

_______________

 

The day arrived that she would leave. Dragon and Viserion were much bigger than they had been and they flew with great confidence. The ships were packed with gold and soldiers and beasts as well as provisions for what seemed like forever. The nobles of Mereen were pleased to see her walk to her ships, finally free of her and her dragons. They pushed off and at last she was headed West, earlier than before and, hopefully, just in time.

 

Though she was filled with an unrivaled wave of joy to be returning home, it felt hollow to not have Missandei next to her. Grey Worm could sense her sadness. 

 

“We’ll find her,” he offered in Valyrian. Dany nodded. Though Greyworm filled her with confidence, the emptiness was starting to consumer her.  Where fire once would have filled her, a threatening nothingness had begun to gnaw at her. Finding Jon would ease it but she needed to find Missandei and rescue her from Littlefinger. The longer it took, the more it would gnaw at her. 

 

Unfortunately at sea, all they had was time. Waiting had never been her best character trait. She was a woman of action and inaction threatened to drive her mad. So she devoted herself to training. Dany had started to learn self defense and archery in her previous life and she had continued it, training hard. She continued training with daggers, as she knew sword training was beyond her reach now but she could learn how to use a dagger or three. Archery was more difficult on a rocking boat but she practiced her stance and draw. She worked on her connection with Drogon and watched him and Viserion play in the sea. They would fly down and catch fish, roasting them in mid air. Those mirth filled moments were few and far between.

 

Other moments were filled with planning. She replayed failed battles in her mind, both from her time and history, trying to find ways to win. She read books on Westerosi history and on ancient myths and legends. She immersed herself completely in learning. She spoke extensively with Barristan on strategy and played cyvasse with Trystane who was horrible at it. Myrcella and her achieved a shaky truce. 

 

And yet the emptiness continued to grow. It robbed her of sleep and it robbed her of moments of joy. She had had enough. One day, as Drogon playfully chortled next to her, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. Running quickly back to her rooms, a plan formed. She filled a satchel with some food, grabbed a cloak and found Selmy.

 

“Good Ser, there is something I must do. Please do not try to talk me out of it. My mind is absolutely made up.” She smiled at him warmly. 

 

“Your grace, if anything were to happen to you, we would be lost.”

 

“Ser, after securing Dragonstone please find Jon. He’s most likely in Winterfell now. I will find you all. I know what I must do.” She hugged him, turned, and mounted Drogon. 

 

Ser Barristan watched in awe as a Targaryen Dragon rider once again took to the skies and flew west. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, feedback is appreciated. Please let me know what is working for you, what could be better and if I have woefully missed something.


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